A Deceitful Web of Seduction
by OyHumbug
Summary: An AU fic where Ryan and Marissa do not know each other but meet up on the last night they are in college. A bet is made who will be the winner? NOW EXTENDED INTO A FICLET!
1. Chapter 1

A Deceitful Web of Seduction

It was the hottest night of Marissa Cooper's life, and she was running late. A senior who had just finished her last final that very afternoon, she had been invited to go out dancing at one of the local clubs, and, though she had agreed, she was not particularly looking forward to it. After the past month of late nights cramming, studying, and worrying over test results and projects….well make that four years….Marissa just wanted to stay in her air conditioned apartment, wear her comfy, baggy, cool pajamas, and veg out watching mindless TV or read a book for pleasure, but she had promised and here she was running behind.

She must have fallen asleep, because by the time she rolled over and opened her eyes to glance lazily at the clock on her bedside table, she realized that she only had twenty minutes to get ready. Springing out of bed, she ran to the bathroom, preceded to trip on her area rug, sprawled out on the floor, and laid there for five minutes laughing at herself uncontrollably before she got back up and continued her way to the shower. Now showered and dressed in what might have been her coolest, semi-appropriate outfit, an adorable baby-doll, sailor dress, she was attempting to tame her hair and apply makeup.

The makeup was easy enough; she just applied the bare essentials, moisturizer, eye liner, mascara, and lip gloss, but her hair was a different story. Normally she would just blow dry her long, chestnut brown hair, but tonight no matter what she did, it just frizzed, the humidity too high to handle. Noticing that she was already twenty minutes late, she gave up on her hair and just let it dry naturally, welcoming the natural curls that would take over and give her that sexy, just out of bed look. Grabbing a pair of flats for there was no way she was going dancing in stilettos, Marissa didn't even bother with a purse, just pushed some cash in a very….personal…location and ran out of her apartment, not bothering to lock her door; her still studying roommate would let her in later.

She attempted to walk briskly to the club, but it was just too hot out, so she hailed a cab and rode the rest of the way there in the comfortable, air-conditioned confines of the back of the car, silently berating herself for agreeing to go out in the first place and deciding she'd only stay long enough to fulfill her promise. Tonight would not be a marathon club hopping session. She'd put in a few hours with her friend, stop by at the grocery store and grab a pint of her favorite Ben and Jerry's, and then spend the rest of the night in bed with mindless, fun, chick lit, perhaps The Bergdorf Blondes. She could read that in one sitting, and it had been years since she had perused it, so it would be like new again.

Arriving at the club, she flashed her ID quickly, smiled appreciatively at the bouncer who let her pass by the waiting crowd, because she was a regular, and entered the building with the pounding music totally oblivious to how that night would work out. It would be the complete opposite of what she had planned.

Sitting inside of the club up on the gallery overlooking the dance floor where one could find a table and chairs, Ryan Atwood sat brooding silently cursing himself for getting into situations like these. How did he let himself get dragged here? On his last night at school before he would head home to begin searching for a job all he wanted to do was spend a quiet evening in his dorm room, savoring the peace and quiet he would no longer have once he went back to live, once again, with his family for the summer, maybe watch a baseball game, and then just think, reflect about the past four years of his life that had flown by so quickly.

To Ryan, clubs were boring. He really didn't drink, and he sure as hell didn't dance, so the only thing that left for him to do was pretend to listen to his friends' snide comments about the women in the club and to find one particularly beautiful one and watch her discreetly all night. Unfortunately for Ryan, the guys were being abnormally callous and rude that night and he hadn't spotted a single girl yet who had caught his eye. There were however an equally annoying table of women sitting just down the gallery from them, rivaling his friends in their volume and hysterics. If only they would leave and go down to the main floor to dance, but they seemed to be waiting for someone to arrive or for something to happen.

Perhaps he would not be as miserable if it were not so damn hot in the club. He thought it had been wretched in his dorm room where the supposed air conditioner just seemed to pump out air hotter than the stifling breezes blowing though his open window, but there, in that crowded, hazy dancehall, the heat seemed to flow off of every person in waves creating a sticky, sweaty, suffocating atmosphere that screamed sex. His shirt was sticking to his body, his hair collecting moisture and sending beads of perspiration tricking down his neck, tickling his skin and making him irritable and slightly perturbed.

Taking a generous drink from his bottle of water that was already warm and unsatisfying, Ryan rolled his eyes at another crass comment from one of his friends and let his mind wander as his eyes shifted around the room hiding the fact that he was making a plan of escape. Realizing he was the only one not drinking alcohol, he knew that all he had to do was wait for his friends to become drunk enough and he could slip out of the building and go home without ever being missed. He just hoped that they kept ordering drinks at a rapid pace; the sooner they were three sheets to the wind, the sooner he'd be able to catch the Sportscenter highlights. Just as he was about to offer his services to go to the bar and pick up the next round of drinks, he stopped dead in his tracks as a woman stepped into the gallery and started looking around the dark, dim room apparently for someone she was meeting.

_Please don't let it be a boyfriend; please don't let it be a boyfriend,_ Ryan found himself secretly chanting, surprising even himself at his instant attraction to the beautiful, dangerously alluring stranger. She seemed to be apologizing for something; perhaps she had been late to meet them since they had been there for over a half an hour without her, annoying Ryan to no end. Joining them, she sat down at their table and immediately they started talking quietly; at least he wouldn't have to listen to them any longer, but he found himself curious as to what the new addition to their group had to say. Snapping him out of his thoughts, one of his friends slapped him on the back and started ribbing him about his attentions.

"Dude, that chick is so out of your league," he taunted Ryan, laughing mockingly. "You couldn't get her even if she was stone cold drunk."

Turning to him, his face hard and angry, Ryan met his friend's hazy eyes with ice cold ones of his own, challenging him to say more without a word shared between them. Perhaps it was because he was attracted to the woman who had just joined the table beside them, maybe he was just bored and looking for some fun, and yet maybe he was just sick and tired of his friends putting him down like that, but then and there Ryan decided that tonight was going to be different than all the other nights they went out, tonight he was taking a stand….even if he fell flat on his face.

"If I wanted her, I could have her," Ryan said confidently, his inner doubts locked away behind his hard, steel blue irises.

Turning away from his stunned friends he caught the captivating woman staring in his direction briefly after a friend had apparently pointed him out. _Oh shit,_ Ryan thought to himself, _she did not just hear that, did she_, but when she just smiled at him and turned back to her friends who seemed to be in a deep discussion he knew that she suspected nothing.

"Dude," a loud, obnoxious voice called out beside him, "you're so on. $100 bucks says she turns you down flat!"

"And what if I sleep with her," Ryan found himself asking, shocked at his own audacity.

"That's never going to happen, but if it does," the same friend continued, "we'll all chip in $100 bucks, so you'll make three hundred; if not," he snickered, "you owe each of us a nice, crisp Ben Franklin!"

Sliding his chair back noisily, Ryan stood up and met each of their gazes before walking away, muttering over his shoulder, "you're on!"

_What the hell have you gotten yourself into Atwood? You're never going to win this bet," _his inner voice taunted him ten minutes later as he sat at the bar sipping on his new, cold water, but before he could silently fight his doubts back, something smooth and soft brushed up against his arm and a slightly raspy, female voice oozing sex appeal called out to the bartender beside him.

"May I have a water please?"

Titling his head to the side he was shocked to see her….the girl he was supposed to seduce that night because of a ridiculous, immature bet with his buddies….standing beside him. _And she's ordering water; there goes the whole drunk idea,_ he laughed at himself ruefully, knowing full well he'd never be able to do that anyway. Taking her presence there beside him as a sign, he spoke up before he lost his chance.

"Water," he questioned in a light, teasing tone, "someone's either really boring or really bored."

"Probably both," she answered, self-deprecatingly, making Ryan smile. "I don't drink, and I don't want to be here. What's your excuse," she asked nudging her head towards his own bottle of water.

"Same on both accounts," he answered her honestly, "Boring and bored, and I don't drink either."

"Well," she smirked at him, "don't we make quite the pair." Surprising him, she sat down beside him at the bar after paying for her bottle of water….with money she pulled from her cleavage…..and continued to talk to him. "So, if you don't drink and, sorry, but you don't seem like the dancing type, why are you here….if you don't me asking?"

"I don't mind, and, at this point, I don't know." When she looked confused, he expanded his answer. "I got guilt tripped into coming out tonight with my buddies, you know the whole 'last chance to have fun as a group' bit. You?"

"The same," she giggled at their similar situations. "Okay, so another question." He nodded to show her she should continue. "What would you like to be doing if you weren't here?"

"Remember, I already told you that I'm boring, but I just wanted to stay at home, lounge on my couch in my boxers, and watch a baseball game," he admitted and could have sworn that her eyes sparkled slightly when he mentioned his underwear, but he dismissed it to wishful thinking. "What about you?"

"I'm even lamer," she shot back as if they were in a competition and sounding proud that she was apparently more of a bore than he was. "I just wanted to stay at home, lounge in my bed in my pj's, and read a cheesy book."

Holding up his water bottle for a toast and waiting for her to meet his with her own, Ryan joked, "here's to us and our miserable night out. May we both find better friends with more interesting hobbies," but just as their bottles were about to click together, she pulled hers away rapidly, jumped up, and grabbed his arm dragging him to his feet.

"Let's get out of here," she suggested. "Let's just forget about our friends and find something better to do than sit around here and either watch them get drunk and annoying or have to sweat to death dancing."

"And what if they get mad," he asked her, curious to see how serious she was.

"Who cares," she shot back playfully. "I'll risk it if you will."

Not believing his luck, he smirked at her, grabbed his bottle of water and followed her out of the club, enjoying the view of her ass as it sashayed back and forth while she strutted off ahead of him.

10 minutes later Ryan found himself standing in front of a fountain in the park and he still had not gotten her to tell him her name.

"I thought you said we were going swimming," he pondered out loud. "I don't see a pool any where around her.

"We're not going in the pool," she replied breezily, slipping off her shoes and motioning for him to do the same. "We're going swimming in the fountain."

Standing his ground, hands on his waist in a slightly perturbed way, Ryan fought back with her. "First of all, it's illegal to swim in the fountain…"

"We're not going to be naked," she interrupted him while moving towards the glistening shallow pool of water, it's soft trickle creating a slight melody on the balmy, early May, spring evening.

"Second of all," he continued, "I was going to tell you that I don't care what you do, there is no way you're getting me in that fountain."

Moving back towards him with a mischievous glint in her eye, she looked him up and down before making her move. With his back to the fountain, she stood in front of him, hauntingly close to his body, and moved so that her lips were right in front of his and whenever she spoke, their noses would softly graze and her mouth would taunt his by blowing warm, cinnamon smelling breath onto his lips. "Oh, I think I can get you in that fountain," she said confidently.

"Oh yeah," he taunted, curious to see where this flirting session could lead.

"What if I do this," she asked letting her hands rest on his chest and suggestively trailing them down his stomach. He just stood his ground. Moving her face in even closer she began to leave quick, feather light kisses along his jaw line, astonishing Ryan at her forwardness. "And now," she asked him.

"Answer's still no," he said with a hitch in his voice, her nearness obliviously having a physical affect on him.

"Playing hard to get, huh," she continued to press, leaning her body fully into his and letting him support her weight. "I have just one more trick up my sleeve," she admitted before sliding her lips over his and kissing him. Gradually, their embrace went from soft, gentle, full of wonder to needy and sweltering as he deepened the kiss and took her tongue into his mouth while reaching to lace his arms around her delicate waist. Just as his mind clouded over in lust, he suddenly found himself being pushed violently, and he lost his footing tumbling down into the fountain and nearly missing hitting his head off of the center, stone figurine.

"Told you I'd get you in the fountain," she teased before joylessly jumping in as well and splashing him for good measure with her legs before sitting down in the water and sighing out of contentment.

"What the hell was that," he lashed out at her, anger replacing his desire. "You could have killed me if I hit my head the right way!"

Rolling her eyes at his melodramatics, she lowered her body down into the water and motioned for him to do the same. "It was a chance I was willing to take," she teased. Already soaking wet, he conceded and followed her down into the water, their heads meeting beside each others and their legs winding around the shape of the fountain in opposite directions. "Now," she ordered with a slight hint of amusement in her tone, "keep your voice down Dudley Do-right or we will get arrested and tell me about yourself."

Surprising himself, Ryan found that he was able to talk to this strange woman he had just met. Perhaps there was something about her that set him at ease or maybe it was just the lulling nature of the night, the air hot and humid against his face relaxing him, the refreshing, chilly waters of the fountain bathing his body in relief, the stars creating a serene painting above them soothing his nerves, and the solitude and peace of the park lulling him into submission, but whatever it was, he was opening up to her as she was to him.

At first their discussion had been limited to small talk, what they had gone to college for, similar classes they had taken, their friends, their immediate plans after graduation, but then somewhere along the way as the seconds floated by, their choice of banter drifted into deeper, more meaningful territory as they shared stories of their past, of their family, of themselves and the dreams of their future. Ryan could not remember ever having a better, more fulfilling conversation in his life.

Much later in the evening after they had heard the church bells strike midnight off in the distance, their talk slowed down and was replaced by a comfortable silence, both of them lost in thought, eyes closed, minds raging.

Ryan found himself in quite a predicament. Sure, he did not want to loose money or face to his buddies over their juvenile bet, but he genuinely, honestly liked this girl, and he knew that if he slept with her to win the contest he would be kissing away his shot at a relationship with her or even a real date. He had no idea what he was going to do.

Startling him out of his thoughts, Marissa spoke up, her voice softer, more relaxed than before, but shaking slightly, "my name is Marissa by the way."

"Ryan," he returned, moving his head slightly to look at her and noticing her lips were faintly blue. "Well, Ryan," Marissa giggled, "this has been fun, more fun than I've had in months, years even, but I'm freezing. Will you walk me home?"

Practically jumping at the opportunity she just handed him, Ryan sprang from the fountain and offered her his hand to help her out. She held onto it thankfully and smiled when he slid his arm around her waist to make sure she didn't slip on the slippery edge. When he touched her though he noticed that she was shivering profusely, so instead of letting her go, he brazenly pulled her into his side and kept his arm around his shoulder trying to warm her body with the heat of his own.

"Thanks," she said timidly before shocking the hell out of him by weaving one of her own arms around his waist and letting her hand rest inside of the back pocket of his jeans.

Her apartment was not far from the park, and they had gotten to the front door of her building faster than Ryan's taste would have permitted. He knew he had about two minutes, the time it would take to ride the elevator with her to her floor and then proceed to her apartment, to make up his mind about what he was going to do, make a move and pursue her or hope for a second meeting and loose the bet. Saving him the decision, Marissa made up his mind for him.

"Wait here," she instructed, "let me get rid of my roommate so she doesn't harass us and, when the coast is clear, I'll come back and let you in."

Obeying what she said with only a half smile to show that he agreed with the plan, he melted into the wall and disappeared from plain sight while she knocked on her door and her roommate let her in. Not two minutes later, she reappeared, waved to him, and then proceeded to pull him by the hand through her apartment until they reached her room. Shutting the door, she surprised him for what might have been the fiftieth time that night by locking it and motioning towards her bathroom.

"I'm going to change, get out of these wet clothes. You might want to do the same," she advised before turning her back to him and starting to unzip her dress. He never moved. Sensing it, dress then undone, she turned around to face him. "Are you going or not?"

"What am I supposed to change into," he asked honestly perplexed.

"Just wrap a towel around your waist for a while. I'll sneak back out and put your clothes in the dryer."

Shooing him back into the bathroom, he disappeared and changed quickly while his imagination ran away from him as he thought of her changing in the room next to him. He waited until she said he could come out, and when he did he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Dressed in merely a pair of boy shorts and a tiny tank top, hair loosely thrown up in a messy bun, makeup removed, Ryan had never been so turned on by a woman before in his life….and apparently she noticed.

Smirking at him, she instructed lightly, "watch out for the rug," mere seconds before he tripped on it and went sprawling on her floor, hitting his head on her dresser. "Told you," she said flippantly bending over to pick up the wet clothes he had dropped before walking out of the room without another word, thoroughly confusing Ryan to pieces.

Grumbling to himself, he got up off of the floor and looked around the room for a place to sit. There was no place other than her bed. Sitting on the edge of it, he waited for her to return and he let his eyes roam her room, getting a better sense of who she was, but she was only gone a moment before she returned, locking the door behind her once again.

"So, what do you want to,…." his voice trailed off even before he finished his question as she was walking towards him and taking off her shirt. Approaching the bed, she pushed him down and pulled off his towel revealing him in all his naked glory.

"You didn't think I brought you back here to talk or bake cookies did you," she taunted. "I want you; you want me." Lowering herself onto his body, she went to kiss him before playfully pulling back and kissing down his chest and stomach first, completely taking control of the situation. While her mouth was quickly arousing him by dipping her tongue into his navel and kissing below it, she shed the last article of clothing she was wearing and slid her body slowly up his until she was sitting on his chest. Leaning down, her breath coming slightly faster than normal, she asked, "Do you have a condom in your wallet or do I have to do all the work her?"

"I've got it covered," he said confidently before flipping her over on her back and gliding off the bed to find his discarded wallet. Fishing out what he needed, he returned to her and tossed several packages of protection on her nightstand before climbing on top of her body and whispering in her ear, "for several round." Taking her mouth in a rough kiss, they began to warm each others bodies up for a night of wild, unbridled sex….and, Ryan thought to himself, a morning of triumph.

Late the next morning, Ryan awoke to the feeling of something warm and supple in his arms only to have it pull away within seconds. Opening his tired, sleep-filled eyes, he surveyed his surroundings and determined that the previous night had not been a dream, but instead the beautiful, mysterious, hot, seductive woman had been a reality.

"Where are you going," he asked her while he went to wrap his arms around her and bring her back to him, but she shrugged him off. Leaning over his body, she took his mouth in a leisurely kiss, her eyes full of humor and naughtiness.

"I'm going to go take a shower." With that, she got out of bed and sauntered her way across the room, teasing him with every sway of her perfectly proportioned, naked hips. Just as she reached the bathroom door, she stopped and turned around, a smirk on her plump, swollen lips.

"So," she asked with a coquettish wink of her eye, "how much did **YOU** make from **YOUR** bet?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

If Ryan Atwood would find a Webster's Dictionary and open it up to the word 'hell,' he was positive he would find a description of the party he was currently at. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be at a Newport Charity event, especially if Kirsten Cohen, his adoptive Mother, was hosting, but never had one been so….PINK! Everywhere he looked there were pink balloons, pink flowers, pink tablecloths, pink bunting, pink dresses, pink shoes, even pink diamonds adorning the perfect, plastic surgery enhanced bodies of the women of the ocean front community. He understood the benefit was to raise money for Breast Cancer Awareness, but that didn't mean his eyes wouldn't appreciate a nice shade of black or blue. While he appeared to be concentrating on what his best friend and brother Seth said, his mind was elsewhere, wandering the party, reflecting over his life, and wishing for something to distract his attentions and perhaps even amuse him.

As the sea of pink parted, the answer to his prayers was standing there with her back towards him, a back, he realized, that looked very familiar. She was tall for a woman, probably his height, graceful, and elegant. Her long, slender body was wearing a short and simple, unpretentious black dress with plain ballet flats; her long, blonde hair was left unadorned and free to blow slightly in the breeze coming off of the nearby sea. Just by looking at her, he knew she was different than every other person at the party, and he found that appealing. However, he still couldn't shake the thought that he somehow knew her, and as she turned around with a girl he recognized slightly from high school at her side, he knew why. She was Marissa….THE Marissa whom he had slept with his final night in Berkeley months before, THE Marissa who had captivated him from across a room from the moment he saw her, THE Marissa who gave as good as she got.

Breaking through his haze of memories, Seth, all of a sudden, was waving his hands rudely in front of his face. "Hey, man," he said while giving him a curious, confused glance, "where did you go right then? One minute I'm telling you all about the job interview I have next week, and, the next thing I know, you're completely zoned off and looking in the direction of two scary but very hot females."

"So you know her," Ryan asked, suddenly interested in what Seth had to say. Sure, it wasn't as if he cared for Marissa, but it would be nice to know a little bit more about the woman who had played him so easily….just in case there was a chance for a repeat performance.

"Who, Summer," Seth shrugged nonchalantly, "yeah, dude, I know Summer Roberts. I only went to school with her for thirteen years, sat by her in almost all my classes sophomore year, and had her puke on me once. I never really did get that off those shoes though now that I think about it…." His voice trailed off as he was lost in thought, but Ryan didn't care about Summer Roberts, or high school, or Seth's shoes. He wanted to know more about the blue eyed seductress standing beside the woman his brother was stuck in the past remembering.

"No, the other one," Ryan's demanding voice brought Seth back to present, "Marissa. Do you know her?"

"Yes, I do," Seth replied, smiling smugly, "but the real question is, how do you know Miss Cooper, Ryan?"

&&&

_Being here,_ Marissa Cooper kept reminding herself over and over again, _is good for business. Suck it up, plaster a fake smile on your face, and pretend you're having a good time. Oh, and you also might want to at least act as if you're listening to Summer's endless prattling about her latest shopping excursions. _Standing in the middle of a crowd, rich men and women on either side of her, Marissa was lost in a sea of pink, the color she hated more than any other. To her, pink symbolized innocence, frailty, weakness, three things she couldn't afford to be anymore, and no one had more pink on than her former childhood friend, the only person in Newport she had bothered to reconnect with after returning from college, Summer Roberts. If she were in a better mood, she would find her friend's rambling amusing, touching, even endearing, but she was bored with the party, uncomfortable in her dress clothes, and, if she were honest with herself, lonely. _Perhaps there's someone out there that could entertain me,_ she mused to herself as she scanned the dozens upon dozens of people slowly…or not so slowly sipping their expensive alcohol and gossiping about the very people they called their friends and neighbors.

Following Summer's lead, she turned around to face the sparkling pool and patio, and her eyes latched onto the only other person who seemed as uninterested with the entire event as she was. Even his posture oozed a jaded attitude, something she found not only sympathetic but also attractive. His body was strong and powerful but not too overbuilt to the point where he would make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, the thought of being held in his arms, arms that even under their dress shirt and suit jacket screamed of masculinity and strength, was highly appealing, but, as her eyes slowly, appreciatively worked their way up his body, she realized he was not a nameless man in the crowd but instead Ryan…THE Ryan who, despite being a one night stand, someone who had chased her to win a bet, had been the sweetest guy she had ever been with, THE Ryan she couldn't seem to forget when it was late at night and she was alone and forlorn, THE Ryan who had not been intimidated by her.

"Oh no, Coop," Summer's hysterical voice broke through Marissa's haze of memories, "hide me!"

"What," Marissa asked bewildered by her friend's drastic change in mood. Glancing around them, she noticed nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't get it. Why would I have to hide you?"

"Because you're like…super tall, and, if you stand in front of me The Cohen Freak will not be able to ogle my goodies any longer."

"Seth Cohen's here," she responded, unable to hide a note of nostalgia from her voice. "Where? I haven't seen him in years…."

"Not since you moved, I know, and, yeah, he's definitely here, staring in our direction. Oh, this evening could not get any worse. Wait a minute," Summer realized, turning towards her friend who was still looking out across the pool at something….or someone she appeared to be mesmerized with. "How did you not see him? You've been staring in his direction now for the past five minutes." Marissa merely shrugged in response, leaving Summer to think quickly. "Unless…," she slowly realized, "you were looking at his brother."

"Ryan is Seth's brother," Marissa exclaimed, shocked.

"Oh my god," Summer hissed, lowering her voice and eyeing her friend closely. "How do you know Ryan Atwood?"

&&&

"We both went to Berkeley," Ryan admitted slowly, trying to feign disinterest and lack of knowledge about Marissa. The last thing he needed was for Seth to figure out what had happened between them. "I saw her around."

"Berkeley is a big school, man," Seth countered, unsure of his answer. "Care to elaborate?"

"Some of her friends hung out with mine." Ryan didn't care that he was stretching the truth lightly. "I knew her by association, but I don't know anything about her. How do you?"

"Dude, Marissa Cooper…Jimmy and Julie Cooper, do you not listen to any of the parents' stories about their past? My Mom and Dad were like best friends with her parents when they were younger, and the Coopers lived next door to me until I was ten and they moved to Hawaii. Hell, my Mom used to date Marissa's dad when she was in high school. It's a very tangled, Newport web. You should really let me tell you about it someday. I mean, the stories I could tell you about Julie Cooper alone…."

"Seth," Ryan raised his voice to stop his brother's train of thought, "you're rambling, and I don't care about Julie Cooper, but, if they live in Hawaii, why's she here?"

"Oh, they just moved back. I mean, well, not Marissa because she's been in California because of school, but the other Cooper chicks just recently came back to Newport. Jimmy died last year, Caitlyn, that's Marissa's younger sister, wanted to go to USC, and Julie wanted to be with her girls, so here they are."

"So then, she's just like any other Newport princess: spoiled, stuck up, and a snob?"

"No, not really," Seth answered, thinking about his response before replying. "Even when she used to live here, she was actually nice to me, unlike all her friends, and now, dude, she is anything but spoiled, stuck up, and a snob. She's like….Grandpa successful. She took over her Dad's investment business, which even before his death was bringing in some decent change, but she's had it for less than a year, and it's already nearly doubled in size. Marissa, man, she's smart…and savvy, not to mention ruthless and very adept at hardball. Rumor has it she had turned down every single guy who's asked her out since she's got back from college, because he's either not successful enough, he's too self-obsessed, or he's intimidated by her. That is one woman no guy should even consider getting in the ring with. She'll eat you up and spit you out before you even reach first base."

Turning back to look at the woman they were discussing, Ryan let his inner thoughts escape. "She doesn't look like that though. I mean…she looks approachable, even friendly."

"That's all a part of her trap, dude. She reels them in with her charm, confidence, and grace, and then, when the guys are snagged and vulnerable, she guts them like a fish." Contemplating Seth's comments, Ryan remained quiet and focused upon Marissa. "Wait a minute," Seth exploded, giving him a friendly slap on the arm. "Are you interested in her?"

"Well, I have eyes!"

"Ryan, buddy, I dare you to approach her, and I'll sit back here where it's safe and watch you get shot down before you even get started with your Chino tested and approved seduction techniques. There's no way you could sleep with her!"

Smirking, Ryan turned towards his unsuspecting brother. "Is that a bet?"

"Are you serious," Seth choked out, laughing. "Oh, you're so on! What do I get when you crash and burn?"

"We'll determine the winner's prize later," Ryan remarked confidently, turning back to look at his former conquest. Catching her eye, he held it for a moment, raising his glass of water to salute her playfully. She was deep in conversation, but as soon as he got a moment to capture her attention, the game would begin.

&&&

"Berkeley might not be a small campus, Sum," Marissa answered her friend's question, "but after being there for four years, you do meet quite a few people. We ran into each other one night at a club. Our friends….they were kind of in this competition." _There,_ she reflected to herself, _that answer was vague enough to not perk her curiosity but detailed enough to bore her. _"But did you call him Seth's brother?"

"Yeah, he was like this badass criminal Mr. Cohen represented back when we were all in high school, and, instead of just getting him off of the charges so he didn't have to go to jail, he brought him home…to live with them! Isn't that insane? He could have been, I don't know, casing the place for all they knew."

Curious, Marissa pressed her, knowing that Summer loved to gossip. True, her stories were often embellished due to the Newpsies' love for scandal, but she would at least learn the basic information she wanted about the man she had slept with all those months before, a man she was in no way interested in….just perhaps considering a repeat performance. "What did he get in trouble for?"

"Uh…I think it was stealing a car, and, knowing Chino, it was probably a piece of shit."

"Wait," Marissa interrupted her, "he's from Chino not Newport?"

"Ew, no," Summer squealed in distaste at the very idea. "People don't steal cars in Newport."

"No," Marissa agreed with her under her breath, "they prefer white collared crime instead." Turning towards her friend, she recognized the look of confusion on her face and chuckled softly. "Never mind, Sum, don't worry about it. So then after the Cohens took him in, what was he like?"

"I don't really know," Summer realized as she thought back over the past. "I never really knew him. We didn't socialize in the same circles if you know what I mean. He was basically a loner, just hung out with the curly haired dork over there all the time. Then we all left for college, and, as you know, he went to Berkeley. Now that he's home, I've heard he actually moved back to Chino, that he's running some community center there. The boy may be hot, but he's got nothing else going for him."

"So then he's not like all the other guys around here, obsessed with their sports cars, their bank accounts, their appearances?"

"As if, he's like the complete opposite of everything Newport represents. In fact, he loathes anything that has to do with this town. He only comes to these things to support Kirsten."

"As if, Sum, have you been watching Clueless again?"

Winking at her, Summer teased, "whatever," before continuing. "Anyway, why do you care about all this? It's not you could ever like him…right?"

"What, no, of course not," Marissa argued, her tone becoming slightly defensive.

"No way," Summer whispered, her eyes large with disbelief. "You like Chino?"

"I don't like him," Marissa reasoned. Her voice was so resolute, Summer could do nothing but believe her. "But that doesn't mean I don't think he's hot."

"Well, dream on, because the guy is notorious for refusing to date anyone from Newport or anyone who has money, and you, honey, you have both things working against you."

Smiling devilishly, Marissa turned to face her friend. "Is that a challenge?"

Taking the bait, Summer stuck her hand out. "I bet you no matter what you do, you won't be able to sleep with him."

"You're on," Marissa agreed, tilting her head to look across the pool at Ryan who seemed to be watching her every move. Grinning at him, she motioned towards the house behind her, laughing silently to herself when she saw him head that way immediately. "We'll figure out what the winner gets later," she told Summer as she walked away. "Right now, I'm going to have some fun."

&&&

"In here," Ryan ordered, taking her hand and pulling her into a dark room off the main hall. As soon as the door closed behind them, he had her pushed up against it, his body pressed roughly into her own. Adjusting to the dim shadows of the space, Marissa realized they were in a bathroom, but, frankly, she could care less where they were. The only things that mattered to her was that she was about to have sex and win something, two of her very favorite things. Five minutes earlier they had casually signaled to each other that they wanted to meet inside. After taking separate routes and trying not to appear suspicious, they had arrived in the very hallway they had just left. However, in that moment with his warm, rapid breath brushing against her hungry lips and his rough, demanding hands moving to firmly grasp her hips, Marissa could care less if people realized what they were doing. She was already engrossed with the man in front of her.

"You know," Ryan stated, running his hands through her hair and tugging on it to bring her mouth to his, "you didn't need to kick me out that morning." Before she could reply, his tongue was in her mouth, assaulting her senses and making her already lose control. Deftly, she reached out and practically tore his belt off of him, snapping it down like a whip.

"Why not," she finally responded when he had to release her in order to breathe. "We both got what we wanted."

"Maybe I didn't," he replied quickly, a slight bite to his words. Slipping his hands under her dress, he rested them on her hips, his fingers dipping into the band of her lacy, black thong. Urging it down, he continued, "maybe I wanted more," before moving to push her legs apart.

"Oh trust me," she taunted, sliding his jacket off of his arms and letting it fall to the floor before moving to quickly unbutton his shirt, "the little note you left behind…with your phone number spoke volumes about what you wanted."

Twisting her around, he once against pressed his body into hers; this time though she couldn't see what he was going to do next, and the uncertainty only served to heighten her desire. As he unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor so that she stood in front of him with nothing but her strapless, matching bra on, he asked, "and what exactly was that?" Before she could answer, he snapped her final of piece of clothing off, tossing it aside, and spun her back around, burying his face in her soft, supple décolleté.

Grabbing his face, she pulled it back up to lock her eyes with his, smirking at him smugly for she now had the advantage, his own hands moving to push both his pants and boxers to the floor while his feet slipped off his shoes and socks. "Me," she finally retorted.

Her answer was only affirmed when he picked her up, held her against the door, and slammed into her, immediately eliciting a moan of satisfaction from her lips he, once again, joined with his own. The sex was hard, arduous, needy, desperate, and exactly what Ryan and Marissa and craving. There was no foreplay, no tender embraces; they were simply satisfying their lust, and, within minutes, their exhausted, sweaty bodies were slumped against each other, the waves of their orgasms pleasing them as they tried to still their raging hearts.

"Hey, where do you think you're going," Marissa questioned Ryan as he set her back down on the floor and bent to pick up his pants and boxers.

"Uh, to collect."

"Trust me," she said emphatically, "I'll be collecting later, too, but, for now, why can't we treat ourselves to seconds?"

"Are you serious," Ryan asked her. She could tell the idea appealed to him.

"Why not? We're not hurting anyone, I doubt we're being missed out there, and, for all our trouble in setting this up, we at least deserve to REALLY enjoy ourselves. You know, we could take our time, maybe slow things down this round."

"Well, you're going to have to wait a few minutes," he told her bluntly, "because I need to recover."

"Okay," Marissa agreed. Kicking off her shoes that were still on her feet, she walked away from him, sitting down on the floor and then laying down while motioning for Ryan to join her. "So, while you recuperate your strength to go again," she teased him lightly, "tell me more about this community center you run."

"How do you know about that?" Positioning himself beside her, Ryan laid down making sure they didn't touch.

"Please," Marissa dismissed, "are you telling me you didn't hit Seth up for information on me like I did with Summer about you." Laughing at her audacity, he rolled his eyes to show that he was guilty of doing exactly what she had accused him of. "Alright then, amuse me. What's so special about this job of yours that you move 45 minutes away from your family to take it? I'm sure there are similar jobs in or around Newport Beach."

"I'm sure Summer was quick to tell you that I'm from Chino. It seems to be the only thing about me people around here remember."

"She did," Marissa admitted.

"Well, I got an opportunity to be something else, to make something of myself, because I got a second chance after I got in trouble with the law. I was lucky; most kids aren't." Turning his head to look at her, it was obvious that she was eagerly listening to every word he said. It had been a long time since anyone had shown genuine interest in his life, in what he was thinking, and that made him comfortable enough to share with her. Noticing her shivering, he lifted his arm up for her to move closer to him in an effort to help keep her warm before continuing. "I know that I could work in Newport Beach, and there I'd never have to worry about a budget or the risk of getting closed down, but I also wouldn't be able to help as many people. It's like I get the opportunity to repay the favor given to me, but maybe the kids I help at the center will get their second chance before they get in trouble."

"How bad are your finances," she questioned him. "You wouldn't have mentioned that aspect of the job if it wasn't weighing on your mind."

"We have enough to pay for a couple more months of operation," he revealed, his voice suddenly softer. "Unfortunately, the people who live there don't see how important the center is, so there's no money coming in. But that's enough about me. Unless you want to talk some more, I'm ready if you are."

"Oh, I'm always ready," Marissa taunted, rolling on top of his body. It was obvious that her words were meant to get a rise out of him in both the literal and figurative sense.

Slowly, she lowered her lips to his chest, sliding herself down his torso as her mouth continued to tease him into oblivion. Just as she softly placed a kiss on him right where he was the most sensitive, she felt his hands reach down to cup her face and draw her back up to him. Rejoining their lips together, Marissa was surprised when she felt him flip her body over so that her back was pressed up against his abdomen. As his mouth danced across her bare shoulders, his hands wound down her body, his right massaging and arousing her breasts as he pinched and teased her painfully erect nipples while his left stroked and played with her core. Feeling him slip two fingers inside of her, she moved her hips to match his motions, dropping her hand to grasp him tightly and return the favor. Their fingers moved in sync, their bodies dancing to the others attentions until the point where they were both ready to fall over the brink into a sea of euphoria, but neither was ready to give in yet. Pulling his hands away from her, Ryan rewrapped them around Marissa's hips and flipped her over to lie astraddle him. Quickly, she lowered herself down around him, encompassing not only his entire body but also his senses in a blissful state of ecstasy. Erotically, they rocked together as one, glistening with sweat and radiating warmth, until they finally pushed each other into a state of sheer, mind blowing bliss, and Marissa collapsed on top of him, her chest painfully crushed into his, but the discomfort only served to heighten her pleasure.

Ten minutes later, Marissa stood in front of Ryan, her dress on her body but still unzipped, as she helped him to button his shirt. "So, I was thinking before," she started only to have Ryan cut her off.

"What," he questioned, slightly insulted, "while we were having sex."

"No, like that would even be possible. I was thinking while you were telling me about your center and then just now when were catching our breath, and I have an idea to help you out."

Shrugging his shoulders, he responded, "hey, I'm in no position to turn down free advice from someone I've been told is basically a financial genius."

She smirked at his comment, pleased with the compliment but realizing he knew nothing about her except for what she allowed the public to see. "I understand that you hate everything that Newport stands for: status, wealth, greed, corruption, but no matter what you do or say, because your family is from here, you're now a part of this community, too, whether you like it or not. Just because you have no respect for the people who live in this bubble of a town," she added, slipping her hands in the waistband of his pants to tuck his shirt in for him, straying momentarily to cup him seductively, making sure he was paying attention, "does not mean you shouldn't take advantage of them. Use their wealth to help your center; use their quest for status to manipulate them into giving you all the money you'll ever need to keep the center open. They'll never realize what hit them, and you'll keep what you want, all the while knowing you played them like the fools they are."

Withdrawing her hands, she turned around and pulled her hair off her back so he could zip up her dress. When he was finished, she faced him, once again, staring into his face to read his expression and to determine what he thought of her idea. She could tell he liked it.

"There's one problem," Ryan eventually spoke up as he lifted her carefully and put her on the vanity, slipping her shoes on her feet for her. His sweet gesture made her smile and laugh softly. "How the hell am I supposed to organize a fundraiser, especially one fancy enough to dazzle Newport's elite into donating thousands of dollars to help a Chino facility?"

Marissa pondered his question for a moment before replying. "Leave that to me. All you need to do is have someone lined up to be a lackey, to run errands, pick up coffee, and generally be there to be abused, verbally and, in all likelihood, physically as well, and I'll get you someone to throw a party no one will ever forget."

"Done," Ryan concurred, punctuating their agreement with a quick kiss before lifting her back off of the sink top. "Now, do you have your proof?"

"They're securely bunched into my clutch," she answered in reference to his boxers. "And yours?"

"Your very sexy thong is resting carefully in my pocket, and, don't worry, I won't let Seth touch it."

Opening the door, she peered outside of it to make sure no one was coming before speaking over her shoulder. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you again, Mr. Atwood."

"Like wise, Miss Cooper," Ryan returned with a wide, pleased grin." Stepping outside of the door, Marissa left to find Summer, knowing Ryan would be making his way towards his betting partner moments later.

&&&

"So, how did it go," Summer asked her eagerly as soon as Marissa found her. "You sure were gone long enough. Trying to brace yourself for the humiliation of having to admit you FINALLY failed at something?"

"Not quite," Marissa laughed, tossing her friend her purse. "Open that, look inside quickly, and then shut it before you give it back to me. Oh, and do not even think of touching them. They're my personal token of victory." She watched in amusement as Summer's face went from confusion to shock and awe to slight disgust.

"Those are dirty, aren't they, like stripped off his body and thrown on the floor, I'm a naughty, immoral slut dirty?"

"Well, if the Choo fits," Marissa teased, taking a sip of her water in self-congratulations. Standing up from the table her friend was still sitting at, frozen in place, she pulled the clutch out of Summer's hands and bent down to whisper in her ear. "Oh, and by the way, you're going to be throwing a benefit for the Community Center Mr. Atwood runs, paying for everything out of your own pocket as your generous contribution to the good work he's doing there, to reward me for winning our bet. I'll be in touch with the details."

With that she left a stunned, silent, and slightly irritated Summer behind her as she sashayed out of the party, her steps oozing confidence and power, her face giving off the glow of a woman who has just been pleasured beyond her wild fantasies. _I guess this party turned out to be better than I thought_, Marissa said to herself. _Wonder how the next one will go?_

&&&

"Let me guess," Seth started talking before Ryan had even completely reached his side where he had been waiting to talk to him by the pool. "She either threw her drink on you,…"

Marissa doesn't drink, Seth," Ryan pointed out, not realizing that he was revealing the fact that he knew more about her than he was supposed to. Luckily for him, Seth was a man with a one track mind.

"Yeah, still talking here," his brother rambled on. "So, no champagne to the face then, that leaves us with knee to the groin, a hand to the face, or a well placed insult to your ego. Which one was it?"

"None," Ryan offered, indicting that Seth should follow him. Once they were in private, standing behind a ridiculously large display of flowers, he lowered his head to look at his pocket, knowing Seth's line of vision would follow his. Pulling the delicate pair of ladies underwear out of his pocket he held it just out of Seth's reach before speaking again. "I guess this means that you need to pay us, and I think that it's only fair that I choose my own reward."

"Be nice, Ryan. We are not only best friends but brothers as well."

"Exactly," Ryan agreed with him, shoving the panties back in his pocket, "so I'm not going to demand a large sum of money, knowing that you'd have to borrow it off of Sandy and Kirsten or drain your trust fund some more. All I want from you is a small, rather insignificant favor."

"No, man, I'm sorry," Seth quipped sarcastically, "I will not teach you the famous Cohen pick up moves."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Ryan laughed. "There's actually no discussion about this. My mind is already made up. You're going to help me throw a fundraiser to save the Community Center by doing whatever and everything the organizer of the event tells you to do. You're going to be their minion seven days a week until the last guest leaves the benefit. I hope you've been working out."

Walking away from his brother, Ryan realized that he had finally succeeded in making Seth speechless. It was a good feeling, the cherry on his sundae after the wonderful night he had somehow managed to have. Calling out over his shoulder, he added, "I'll be in touch with the details," before leaving the party to go back home to Chino. Hands in his pockets, he whistled to himself as he made his way towards his old beat up truck, face smiling, mind at peace, and body completely satisfied. _After everything,_ Ryan realized to himself_, overall, not a bad party. Wonder how the next one will go?_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Hey Coop," Summer cheered out as she strolled leisurely into Marissa's office without knocking or even checking to make sure she wasn't with a client. "Oh, muffins! How did you know that I totally skipped breakfast this morning?" Picking up the baked good Marissa had been planning to eat herself, she proceeded to bite into it, talking with her mouth full. "This is low-cal, low-fat, and organic, right?"

"Not quite," Marissa revealed smirking at her friend's horrified expression. "Do you know those ready to make packages you can buy in the store?" Summer nodded her head slowly, afraid to take the conversation further. "Well, I used one of those and baked a whole batch this morning. I guess that's what you get for barging into my office unannounced," she proceeded to mock when Summer immediately spit the partially chewed food out into a napkin and threw it away.

"Please, like it wasn't obvious you didn't have a client. There wasn't a car out front."

"They could have walked here," Marissa suggested.

"Yeah, because we both know that walking is so in vogue in Newport Beach. The only way any of your clients would ever be caught dead walking anywhere," Summer pointed out, "is if it was on a state of the art treadmill with their young, eye-candy of a personal trainer encouraging them in a falsely chipper voice."

"Speaking from personal experience," Marissa teased her, smiling at the brunette's nonchalant, undaunted shrug of her shoulders. "By the way," she added, standing up and rounding her desk to grab the cream envelope Summer was twirling distractingly in her hands, "they could have had their personal driver drop them off. What's this," she asked, sitting down and moving to open the letter. "Did you get my mail for me?"

"God no," Summer huffed indignity, "I don't even get my own mail. This is a special invitation to a certain fundraiser I got duped into organizing, personally delivered by yours truly at the bequest of a rather cute do-gooder who has the disadvantage of being poor, judgmental, and boring."

"First of all," Marissa corrected her, pulling out her blackberry, "you weren't duped; you lost. Secondly, it sounds like someone else is getting a little judgmental themselves, and, finally, as for being boring, let me assure you Ryan is anything but."

"Maybe not in the sack," the snickering brunette replied, "but in the board room, he'd even put someone with insomnia to sleep." Marissa heard her friend respond and knew it was probably something mocking and witty that she would expect her to laugh at, but she was deep in thought, organizing her commitments and scheduling a few more in her calendar. Suddenly, Marissa noticed a change in Summer's tone. "What are you doing?"

"I was attempting to work until someone, and they shall remain nameless, interrupted me, so now I'm killing time by emailing the salon to make an appointment for the fundraiser."

"Oh," Summer exclaimed excitedly, leaning forward in her seat, "you are going?"

"Yes, I'm going. It would be rude of me not to, not only because I am a business owner who needs to support worthy charities, but also because I was the person who gave Ryan the idea for this benefit in the first place. Besides," Marissa added trying to sound uninterested, "it'll be a good tax write off."

Disappointed, her friend returned, "well, in that case, tell me what time your appointment is for, and I'll make mine for then, too. We can go together."

"Not for this type of an appointment. It's personal."

"Getting your hair done is not personal," Summer countered, missing Marissa's point. "We've gotten our hair done together lots of time….nails, too."

"I know," she agreed with the confused brunette, "but that's not what kind of appointment I'm talking about."

"What else could you have done at a salon that you wouldn't want me there for?" Marissa didn't answer, leaving Summer to ponder the answer to her question to herself. "They offer massages, but I doubt you'd be getting one of those, and, even if you were, we could do that together. If you want, they'll do your makeup for you, but you always do your own…." Her voice trailed off as she was lost in thought. Finally, realization set in. "Oh my god."

"Exactly," Marissa teased. By the tone of her friend's voice alone, she could tell her appointment plans had been discovered. "A girl never can be too prepared," she continued, explaining. "Not that I'm expecting anything, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"You make it sound like you're stocking your basement with canned goods and bottled water in case there's an earthquake or as if you just ordered AAA for your car; having a bikini wax does not constitute an emergency precaution!" Smirking to herself, Marissa went back to working and avoided Summer's intense scrutiny. "You like him," her friend eventually blurted out, making Marissa's head snap up in attention, "and I don't mean in a he's a respectable man who's an acquaintance or even a he's a close friend way, I mean you REALLY like him. We're talking first date jitters, practicing your signature with his name, baby fantasies LIKE him."

"That's ridiculous," Marissa dismissed easily. "Yes, Ryan is a nice guy….I think….well, at least, as far as I know. We actually haven't done that much talking, but that's beside the point. I see him as a professional colleague….a business associate."

"Your words are saying one thing, but those dazzling baby blues which, let me add, are quite expressive are saying another. They're speaking the language of love."

Feigning innocence, Marissa sarcastically replied, "my eyes don't know French."

"Ugh," Summer groaned exasperated with her friend, "you sound just like Cohen, glib and cynical about everything! Can you not, just once, give me a straight answer?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Marissa stopped her, taking control of the conversation and turning the tables on her friend. "What's this? You're now referring to Seth as just Cohen. What happened to referring to him as 'The Cohen Freak?'

"It's more expedient and economic for me to shorten his name when I have to yell at him," Summer explained easily as if her answer was rehearsed. "I guess it's become a habit." Mumbling under her breath, she added, "because I definitely have to do it enough."

"You see, I would interpret it a different way," Marissa argued. "You call me Coop which is an abbreviation for my name as a term of endearment. One could only presume that using the same technique for Seth is your way of showing him you care."

"What….NO," Summer denied emphatically, quickly springing up from her chair. "That's crazy….absurd. He drives me crazy, Marissa! He's always whining and complaining or attempting to talk to me about his comic books. Like I really care about anything he has to say! And that hair….EW! It's curly…..and thick…..and when it's humid out, it frizzes. And then there are always those chicken arms, do not get me started on them! Did I tell you that he dropped an entire crate of crystal goblets yesterday, because it was too heavy for him? The man is annoyance personified into a human form. That's like saying Cinderella should have ended up with the footman or Julia Roberts should have ended up with Lyle Lovett or…."

As Summer fled from her office and then apartment as quickly and as unannounced as she had first appeared, Marissa sat back in her chair and laughed. She had found her secret weapon of conversation to get Summer to do anything: Seth Cohen.

&&&

"…but Ryan, you do not understand how terrible this woman is! She makes me physically work. I don't just get her coffee and bagels, a skill I feel quite confident in, or carry her purse or lick all the stamps she uses; I have to do manual labor. 'Carry this, Cohen,' 'Pick up my dry cleaning, Cohen,' 'Empty my garbage can, Cohen,' 'Wash and wax my cars, Cohen,' and not just one or even two, but the woman has five cars, none of which, let me add, did she purchase on her own. Daddy 90210, Bagillionaire plastic surgeon to the stars, did for her. Plus, you should hear the way she speaks to me. It's so dismissive….like she's not even listening to anything I have to say. But that's not all. Her worst offense yet is that when she caught me reading a comic book…..on my lunch break no less, she fed it through a paper shredder, proceeded to break the machine, and made me buy a new one, because I was 'the ass who was reading the comic book in the first place.'"

Paying little attention to his brother's complaints for he was trying to work, Ryan mumbled absently, "I'm sure you have another copy at home, Seth."

"That's beside the point!"

Looking up annoyed, he asked, "do you even have one…a point, I mean?"

"Of course I have a point, and I'm getting to it. Do not rush me, buddy," Seth chastised playfully. "My rambling is an art form. Anyway, as I was saying, she's unbearable! I hope the nookie you got out of this bet…."

"Seth, don't say nookie."

"Whatever," the obsessed brunette shrugged off his brother's warning, "back to me and my point, this bet better have been worth it for you, you better marry this woman, because nothing and I mean NOTHING else will suffice the amount of torture and level of cruelty I must endure day after day of being Summer's bitch on a collar." Pausing to breathe, Seth ignored the message from Ryan's computer alerting him to the fact that he had mail, but, when he looked up to see his brother grinning….with his teeth actually showing, all his concerns for himself vanished. "What's that," he asked, referencing the email.

Without thinking, Ryan replied, "she's coming….to the benefit."

"Dude, by the size of that ridiculous smile on your face, I'd say whoever this mystery woman is, she is like the cat's meow of grand dames who donate to obscure charities. Let me guess," he pushed eagerly, "it's The First Lady of California, Mrs. Governator herself."

"What," Ryan asked as he shook his head in confusion. "When you dropped those glasses yesterday, did you trip and fall on your head, too?" Regaining his composure, he simply answered, "it's Marissa. She just sent me her RSVP to let me know she's coming to the party."

"And you're beaming like that because the future Mrs. Atwood will be in attendance at your little shindig in two weeks? Dude, you're already so gone on her!"

"Seth," Ryan responded shortly, his temper barely in check, "I'm glad she's coming, because this whole event was her idea, not to mention it's because of her that Summer is organizing this for me."

Whispering to himself, Seth joked, "so it's she who must face my wrath." Ryan simply ignored him.

"Plus, I have a feeling she'll be a generous donator to the center, someone who maybe could become a major benefactor in the future. As for calling her Mrs. Atwood," he continued surprising his brother when he reached across the desk and slapped him upside the head, "you have no idea what you're talking about. Marissa and I we're….I mean….um…."

"You're friends," Seth replied smugly, using air quotes to parody his choice of words. "I get it. Last week, you slept with her once…."

"Twice," Ryan corrected.

"Twice," the laughing brunette amended his statement, "and it meant nothing. You just have the 'best sex of my life' walk going for you still two weeks later, because the infamous Miss Cooper is merely your friend. Right, I understand completely."

"Seth, do you know how Summer likes to hurt you?" Ryan smirked when he noticed his brother swallowing thickly. "Well, not only am I taller and a lot stronger than she is, but I also have more motivation to injure you right now."

"Wow, look at the time," Seth exclaimed, standing up and whistling in mock surprise. "Time flies when you're having fun, right buddy? However, that said, I think I have to break up this little laugh fest. I still have to run to the drug store to pick up a few personal things for Summer before I meet her at the florist."

Although his comment was obviously said in hope of pity, Ryan ignored him. "By the way," he called out to get the leaving brunette's attention, "could you mention to Summer that I would like a working fountain in the center of the room on the night of the party, nothing too gaudy…just a simple park fountain."

"Uh….sure," Seth responded doubtfully. "I'll mention it to her, but she doesn't take suggestions very well. She says they 'infringe upon her creative process,' whatever the hell that means."

"It's not a suggestion," Ryan corrected him as he stood up to move towards his office door. "It's an order." With that, he shut the door in his brother's face, ending their conversation.

&&&

"Marissa, I don't see why you insisted upon dragging me to this benefit….in Chino," Julie complained to her daughter. It was not the first time she had uttered those words, but Marissa paid no more attention to them than she had the first ten times they were uttered. As they stepped into the community center though, Julie's protests were stifled. "Well," the fiery red head gulped in surprise, "this is not what I was expecting."

"I told you that it'd be just as nice as any charity event held in Newport. Summer designed everything about it," Marissa explained, "from the invitations to the menu to the….." Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the center decoration of the entire event. It was a fountain. The water was glistening, the pulsing of its aquamarine liquid a soothing, melodic sound to her ears, and there was only one person in that entire room who would ever think to decorate an indoor party with a working fountain: Ryan.

"Does it meet with your approval," a masculine voice whispered in her ear, catching her off guard.

Turning around to look into his eyes, their gazes locked together and everything else….everyone else in the room disappeared. "Hey," she returned, her voice equally as soft and seductive. "Everything looks amazing."

"I didn't mean everything," Ryan countered, tilting his head in a silent challenge. "I was talking about one thing in particular. Does it meet with your approval?"

"I think you know it does, and that's why you're asking." Curiously, she pondered. "Why though? Why go through all the trouble of having that?"

"If anyone should know that answer, it's you." She merely looked at him, searching his face, his eyes for the answers to her unsaid questions; he was unreadable, merely staring at her with amusement and attraction radiating from his eyes.

"Excuse my daughter," Julie interrupted their moment, making Marissa take a step back and sigh quietly to herself. "She has no manners. I'm her mother, Julie Cooper, and I presume you're the young man who is hosting this fundraiser. I've had the pleasure of renewing my friendship with Kirsten since I moved back from Hawaii, so, of course I've heard many wonderful things about you, but I haven't seemed to be able to run into you yet in Newport."

"Well, that's probably because I don't live there," he offered her before holding out his hand. "Ryan Atwood, it's nice to meet you Mrs. Cooper."

"Please, call me Julie," she insisted, smiling confidently. Marissa knew that face; she feared that face, because it meant her Mother was up to something, and, knowing her Mother, it wouldn't be good. "Now, tell me, how do you know my daughter? Marissa, as always, has been coy and elusive with her explanations of your acquaintance."

"We met at school," Ryan answered easily, diplomatically, honestly, "and we, by chance, ran into each other at the breast cancer awareness event Kirsten held a month ago. This," he motioned towards the party, "was actually Marissa's idea."

Teasing him, her Mother pushed. "Oh, and I bet your girlfriend just loves the fact that you took another woman's advice."

"I'm single," he answered her disguised question, "and I like my life how it is. Please," he smiled tightly at her, "feel free to walk around, socialize, dance. Dinner will be served soon, but, if you'll excuse us, I have a quick question I need to ask your daughter."

"Certainly, don't let me keep you," Julie gracefully moved far enough away so that she would not be able to hear their conversation but could still observe them.

Once alone, Ryan cleared his throat before speaking, his face instantly showing his nervousness. Marissa waited in expectation to hear what he had to say, but as he started talking, her countenance fell, and Julie noticed everything. "I was wondering if it would be okay to recognize you tonight during my speech, to mention that this event was your idea, because I don't want to take credit for your work."

"That's what you wanted to ask me," Marissa demanded to know from him in disbelief. Before he could respond, she answered him. "Yeah, fine, do whatever you want. I don't care. After all, it is your community center; I have nothing to do with it. Now, if you'll excuse me, my Mother is waiting…." Walking away from him, her face emotionless, she rejoined Julie who instantly smirked at her. "Do not say a word," she warned her Mom.

"I know that face," Julie taunted her, laughing. "I know that face well. You're attracted to him."

"Aren't you," Marissa retuned quickly. "Everyone breathing woman in this room is probably physically attracted to him. It doesn't mean anything."

Stopping suddenly as they progressed into the crowd of the party, Julie gently took her daughter by the hand. "Honey, you can say what you want, but I'm your Mother. I know you. I wasn't lying when I told Ryan that I've seen and talked to Kirsten a few times, and, let me tell you, you're exactly the opposite of his taste. He'd never even consider dating you, because you have money, you come from a prominent family in the community, and you were raised in an elitist society. You have no chance with him."

"Wow, Mom, thanks for the vote of confidence!"

"Marissa, I'm not trying to be mean or even harsh. It's just the truth. You could pull every trick in the book, but you'd still never be able to sleep with Ryan Atwood."

Marissa had to hold back her laughter as another opportunity seemed to be falling right into her lap. "Is that a challenge?"

"Are you serious," Julie snapped, lowering her voice to a whisper and pulling her daughter closer to her. "I am not going to bet my own daughter that she couldn't get a man to sleep with her! What kind of mother do you think I am?"

"Well, obviously an apprehensive one." Marissa knew every single one of her Mom's buttons, and she also knew how to push them. "Are you scared of losing?"

"Do not challenge me, young lady!" In response, she merely quirked her eyebrow in a contest of wills at the older woman. "Fine," the baited redhead snapped, "you have until 8:00 tomorrow morning to seal the deal. I'll pick you up here at that time, and, if you want to win, you better have proof."

With poise, Marissa replied. "That won't be a problem. As for what the winner's prize will be, we'll determine that in the morning." She watched as her Mom rigidly nodded in agreement before pivoting on the heel of her stiletto and stalking off to find other company. Pleased with herself, Marissa, too, went in search of someone to talk to, but, in her case, she was looking for a particular person: Summer.

&&&

"Oh man, are you in for it now," a chuckling Sandy abruptly appeared behind Ryan, startling him out of his personal thoughts. He had been watching Marissa since she walked away, his eyes following her wherever she went. "Do you even know who she is?"

"She who," Ryan asked, turning around to talk to his adoptive father.

"The girl,….well woman now I guess," Sandy answered, "that you've been practically drooling over all night, the one and only, thankfully, Marissa Cooper."

"I wasn't drooling."

"Fine, call it what you will," the older man offered, "ogling possessively, surveying with apparent interest, studying a coveted piece of art, but you've got it bad."

"I don't have anything," Ryan argued. "She's good looking, I'll give you that much, but so are dozens of other women in this room."

"True, but are they all AS good looking as Marissa? Plus," Sandy added with a knowing nod of his head, "she's also smart, successful,…"

"I already know that. Look," Ryan offered an explanation, "we met when we both in college, and she helped me with this fundraiser. Besides from me being attracted to her, that's it; there's nothing else to discuss."

"Is attracted a code word for 'I want to shower her with expensive presents, spend the rest of my life with her, and then make lots of babies together?"

Exasperatedly, Ryan tried to walk away. "What is with you and Seth? There is nothing and there will never be anything going on between Marissa and I."

"So Seth noticed the pure lust oozing from you, too," Sandy beamed proudly. "I have hope yet he won't die a virgin." His comment was meant to make Ryan laugh, to ease the tension between them, but it didn't work. Ryan just kept scowling.

"This conversation is pointless," he dismissed moving away from the amused older man, "because the only thing I feel for her is physical attraction, and it'll never amount to anything."

"You're right," Sandy agreed with him, surprising his son.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that, and don't take this the wrong way, because I love you, but you stand absolutely no chance with Marissa Cooper. She's what I affectionate term a 'man killer.' No one is ever good enough for her."

"You know," Ryan smiled smugly. Trapping people was starting to get a bit too easy. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were daring me."

"Oh, this is no dare, because I know you wouldn't be able to see it through. She'd turn you down faster than a Newpsie pouncing on an old, wealthy widow."

"We'll just see about that," Ryan challenged. "Meet me here tomorrow morning at 8:00, and we'll see how particular Miss Cooper is. Loser cleans up after the party."

"I'll bring you an old pair of clothes to get dirty in," Sandy teased as he walked away, his laughter floating around him when he left just as when he had arrived, while Ryan's own smirk could be seen flashing across his face wherever he went that night.

&&&

The party had been a success, but everyone was gone, finally leaving him alone with Marissa. As soon as he realized she would be coming two weeks before, Ryan couldn't help but hope somehow their night would end up like this again, but, this time, they didn't have to rush or go back to their friends afterwards; they had the rest of the evening to spend with each other. He was standing in the shadows simply observing her. She moved fluidly, her delicate hands grazing over the various things she looked at, in a leisurely pattern around all the various tables as she made her way towards the fountain. This time they hadn't even shared signals with each other to organize their meeting. Somehow they both just knew. Reaching beside him, he dimmed the lights until they were turned off, leaving the entire center in the warm glow of the floating candles on every centerpiece, and he realized as a particular candle cast a radiance across her face that she looked even more beautiful than earlier in the evening…if that was possible.

Stepping out of the shadows, their eyes locked as he made his way across the room towards her waiting figure, and he relished the fact that he was finally free to admire her as much as he wanted. Again, like the previous party, she had been dressed unlike any other woman there. While the skirt of her dress was form fitting and sequined, the bodice was sheer, pleated chiffon, letting his vision see glimpses of her soft, smooth, creamy skin. She looked subtly sexy, sophisticated, and intelligent all at once. The dress was made for her body, and he was made to remove it.

Just as he approached her, they were both startled by a sudden noise coming from the back of the center. Simultaneously, their gazes turned towards the disruption, and they were surprised to see a giggling Summer leaning into a smiling Seth as they loudly made their way of the building. It was obvious they were both slightly drunk and definitely getting along better than before. As soon as they had disappeared from sight and sound, Marissa looked back to Ryan, questions and curiosity resting brilliantly in her eyes.

"What was that all about?"

"I have no more idea than you do," Ryan answered her, grinning. "The last I heard Seth was accusing her of being related to Castro."

Marissa giggled. "Well that's not much better than what Summer said. She claimed the only thing she could figure out to excuse his behavior was that he ate paint chips." Glancing back at the door where her best friend and former neighbor had just departed, Marissa thought for a moment before returning to Ryan. "You don't think…." But she stopped herself as they both, together, said, "nah," dismissing the idea that Seth and Summer were going to end up sleeping together. Still lost in thought, Marissa was startled when she felt Ryan's hand on the small of her back as he led her away from the fountain towards a relatively clean and bare table. "Aren't we going to….you know," she asked, blushing. Ryan couldn't help but chuckle at her embarrassment. Even after they had been so intimate with each other, the simple task of conversation after their first night seemed so difficult at times between them now.

"Later," he answered, grinning at the thought, "but, first, I was hoping you'd have something to eat with me. I was too busy during the party to grab something, because I had so many people to talk to, but I'm starving."

"Then we should eat," she agreed ardently. "I don't need you tiring out on me after one round."

"Reassuring her, he responded, "that's not going to happen." Helping her into her chair, Ryan leaned down to look closely into her face. "I'll make you a deal," he playfully offered. "I'll fix our plates if you eat with just your dress on….no undergarments."

"And what do I get in return?"

"Anything you want."

"Hm…," Marissa mused to herself as she let her eyes roam Ryan's body. "Lose the suit jacket, the tie, and unbutton the shirt, and you'll have yourself a deal."

After removing said clothes, Ryan went to fill their plates, placing various appetizers and entrees onto their dishes while piling many sweet delicacies onto a separate one for them to share, and, the whole time he was gone, he could feel Marissa watching his every move. It was exhilarating. Moving back to the table, he put the food down, and they ate in relative silence, occasionally commenting upon the different things they liked or sneaking glances at each other, but it didn't satisfy Ryan. He needed more.

"So," he taunted, motioning towards her clothes. "Do you always wear black now that you're home in Newport? Your style was very different at Berkeley."

"Do you always pay attention to what I wear?" Ryan could feel himself redden guiltily at her question, but she simply laughed before answering. "I could be who I wanted during college; my reputation and appearance didn't affect my grades, but here, now that I've taken over my Father's business since he died, every little thing about me says something to potential clients. So, when I'm in the public eye, my entire look and demeanor is planned to give me an advantage over my competitors. However, I don't always look like this. You just never see me outside of the social sphere."

"Well then I guess my challenge is to figure out a way to observe you in a more natural state."

"Natural," she questioned, flashing him a dazzling smile. "I can do that right now." He observed her carefully as she stood up, turned her back to him and removed everything from two tables beside them, stripping free the tablecloths. Tossing them into the air, she watched as they floated down to lay smoothly on the floor in front of the fountain before looking over her shoulder at him, giggling, and unbuttoning the top of her dress and unzipping the back, letting it fall to the floor. Standing in front of him completely nude with only her alluring stilettos on, she finally pondered out loud, "I wonder if this is natural enough for you now?"

That was all the invitation Ryan needed. Within seconds, he had her wrapped in his arms, his mouth seeking hers desperately as she hastily stripped the rest of the clothes off of his willing and inviting body, their senses only aware of one another as everything else faded away. The shoes, designer, expensive shoes, she impatiently kicked off landed with a splash in the fountain, but neither of them noticed. The button on his pants flew off to land discretely amongst the other remnants of the party on the floor. It would never be found, but he wasn't even aware it was lost. The tablecloths they were to lay on were pushed aside in their hasty actions, but the cold of the floor merely made their glistening, sultry bodies feel as if they were sizzling with passion. Nothing else existed, because they were lost in each other, first exploring every nuance of their partners bodies and then by their slow, sensual, beautiful coupling.

With abated breath, they laid next to each other, a table cloth pulled loosely over each of their bodies, as they waited for the pure ecstasy of their orgasm to fade into a tingling warm. While Marissa kept thinking about what it felt like to feel Ryan moving inside of her, Ryan couldn't stop remembering what her face looked like when she quivered with pleasure beneath his stimulated body as she reached the pinnacle of her release. Breaking him from his thoughts, he felt her move across his body as she reached for something.

"Look at this," she exclaimed, "someone dropped their whole pack of cigarettes. Sucks to be them."

"Actually," Ryan revealed, laughing at her final comment, "those are mine." He only laughed harder at her shocked expression.

"How did I not know that you smoked," she questioned. "I mean, we spent a whole night together back at Berkeley, and, since then, we've had sex three times and I've never once tasted them on your breath."

"That's because I'm really not a smoker. I was nervous tonight before the event, and sometimes smoking one will help me calm down. It's actually been years since the last time I had one."

"Aw," Marissa teased, moving to straddle his hips and sit on top of him, letting the tablecloth fall and expose her body. "That's cute you know, admitting that you were scared, lame but cute at any rate."

"Glad I could amuse," he quipped lightly. Her next movements fascinated him. He observed her body as she leaned back down to pick up the lighter which had also fallen out of his pants' pocket and then proceeded to pull a cigarette out and light it. After taking a long drag off of it, she turned it around and held to his mouth insinuating that they should share.

"It's been years since I've had one, too," she admitted, crawling back down to curl her body around his once the cigarette was firmly placed in his mouth, "but there's nothing better than a post orgasm smoke."

As they continued to share the cigarette, Ryan realized that she was the only woman who was capable of constantly surprising him. From everything he had heard about her, he would have never imagined they'd have sex on the floor of a Chino community center and then proceed to talk as they made their way slowly through a pack of Marlboros, but the fact that she could amaze him only made her that much more attractive to him.

"So, I've been thinking," he revealed, rolling over to lay on his side so he could look down upon her stunning face and figure as he talked, the hand he wasn't using to hold up his head constantly tracing the lines of her nude body. "I want you to come here, to the center, see what this fundraiser has helped keep alive."

"As a guest," she posed, "your friend, or a volunteer?"

"No one gets to come here and not work," he taunted her making her roll her eyes, "but I promise to take it easy on you the first few times you come, no bathroom cleaning duties or food service."

"What do you mean a few times? This isn't just a one time thing?"

"Well, this money we made is going to continue to make improvements." Testing her, he pushed, "don't you want to see every step of the process." He waited for her response as she seemed to judge the true intentions behind his words.

"Is this a dare?"

"Take it however you want." Leaning in, he captured her lips in a fervent kiss. When neither of them could remain in the embrace for a moment longer, she pulled back to answer him.

"Fine," Marissa agreed, "I'll be here once a week, every Sunday, to volunteer, because I never back down from a dare. However," she grimaced pulling away from him, "I hate the taste of cigarettes when I'm kissing someone. You're not getting close to me again until you find some gum or a breath mint."

Baited, Ryan bit back, "it was your idea in the first place to smoke together, and it's not like your mouth taste any better."

"I would never have gotten the idea to smoke in the first place," she returned, standing up to search for her purse, "if you hadn't of needed them to curb your fears."

"It wasn't fear," Ryan yelled back, thoroughly annoyed by her comments. "I was just anxious. There's a difference. Besides, this whole event was your idea, so technically it's your fault we shared those cigarettes."

"I would never have had to think up an idea to save your community center if you were a better businessman and hadn't run it into debt!"

"It was bleeding in the red when I got hired," he defended himself, moving to quickly confront her, but, as he spun her body around to face his, their blazing blue irises locking in passion and intensity, he suddenly didn't care about their breath, her nagging demands, or their provoking fight; all he could think about was how much he wanted to lose himself in her again. Picking her up by holding onto her bare, firm derrière, his senses of arousal only awakened further as he felt her wrap her long, lithe legs tightly around his torso. Joining their mouths together again, he relished in the taste and feel of her.

"But your breath mint," she managed to gasp out when he pulled away to run his lips down her jaw, over her neck, and onto her quivering chest.

He didn't reply immediately though. Instead, he took her lips in another endless kiss, finally answering her question once her mint was in his mouth. "We'll share." Blindly, he walked backwards until his feet came in contract with their tablecloths again. Melting slowly onto the floor, Marissa still wrapped in his arms and clasping him tightly, he realized all their bets, challenges, and dares were merely an excuse, but what they were an excuse for, he wasn't willing to think about yet. For as long as it would last, they, instead of thinking, would simply live in the moment.

&&&

His back hurt, his body was sore, and he had a headache, but none of his nuisances mattered as Ryan slowly woke up the next morning; the feeling of a naked Marissa curled into his body was enough to eradicate anything unpleasant. He didn't want to wake up, and he didn't care if it meant he wouldn't be able to walk right for a month if he could stay in that one spot all day long with her.

"Holy shit," a frightened and startled Marissa broke him from his pleasant thoughts as her loud voice made him snap open his eyes and sit up beside her in case something was wrong. Luckily they had one of the tablecloths wrapped around them as he realized what had troubled her. Sitting in chairs directly in front of them sat a shocked Julie Cooper and an amused Sandy Cohen, both of them merely watching the young couple as they slept.

"Look who's finally awake," Sandy teased. "You know you were the one who insisted I be here at 8:00 in the morning. It would have been nice if you would have seen it appropriate to wake up in time so you were ready for me."

"What time is it," Marissa asked, slowly burying herself further and further under their cover. "How long have you been watching us, Mother?"

"It's about 9:30," Julie revealed, finally sending a proud smirk in her daughter's direction, "but don't worry, we haven't been sitting here the whole time. Sandy brought breakfast, bagels and coffee. We got here, saw you two, ate, and then took our seats to watch the show."

"Yeah, I really wouldn't call watching your daughter and I wake up a show," Ryan snapped back testily. Turning to Sandy, he added, "as for you, you're just delaying the inevitable. You lost, so pay up. This place has to be spotless before you can go home."

"Alright, alright," the older man conceded, holding up his hands in surrender, "but don't think I'm not telling Seth about this."

"He already knows," Ryan dismissed. When Sandy looked confused, he explained. "This isn't the first time Marissa and I have made bets with people."

"So basically," Julie added, slightly irritated, "we got had."

"Don't be a sore loser, Mom," Marissa further provoked the riled redhead. "Just….go and help Sandy start cleaning up in the kitchen. I guess that can be your payment to me, that you can't leave here either until everything is in perfect order."

"But I had a spa appointment."

Ending the discussion, Marissa retorted, "I don't care!" When Julie merely stared at her in shock, she motioned for her Mom to leave. "If you don't mind….," and finally the two adults left them alone.

Standing up together, they gathered their clothes quickly, helping the other get dressed, and it became obvious that the abrupt intrusion by their parents into the private world they had created for themselves together had made them, once again, slightly awkward with each other.

As he buttoned the clasp on the back of her dress for her, Ryan asked Marissa softly, "do you want some breakfast? I'm sure there are plenty of bagels left, and I could put on a new pot of coffee in my office."

"That would be nice," Marissa smiled at him as she followed his lead towards the back of the building. "And, while we eat," she added, "we can talk about that volunteer work you tricked me into last night when I was vulnerable."

"Vulnerable from what?"

With a saucy smile, she replied, "my orgasm…well the first one anyway," completely unaware that two very interested people were listening into their conversation intently, both of them completely baffled and, at the same time, intrigued by the discovery they had made that morning. Things were about to get interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Walking into his rather dull and unadorned yet bright and sunny office, Ryan couldn't contain the smile he felt bursting forth, and, instead of fighting it, he started to whistle as well. It was Sunday, his favorite day to work. He told himself he was so happy because the center was doing well after the fundraiser a month before, because he had a family whom he loved and who loved him, and because the scent of fresh, rich coffee was wafting through the air for one of his coworkers had put a new pot on for him before he got there, but all those reasons were wrong. The problem was that he wouldn't admit the truth to himself. The real reason he was so happy and enjoyed Sundays more than any other day of the week was because of a certain beautiful, blonde, blue eyed volunteer who spent hours with him on that day every week. Plus, the fact that one of his favorite neighborhood boys was there that morning put an extra spring in his step as well.

As he inhaled his first cup of coffee, drinking it so rapidly he barely had time to actually taste it, he thought about the kid working with one of the drafting programs he had installed in the center's computers. Just like he had when he was a teenager, the boy who was really already a young man at the tender, impressionable age of fourteen, Aron, reminded Ryan of himself at that age. He, too, had been fascinated with buildings, architecture, and design, even considering it briefly as his major before choosing to go into social work so he could repay the favor given to him by helping hundreds of deserving kids. Aron was quiet, extremely intelligent, but, unfortunately, had a not so bright group of friends. He wasn't a bad kid just sometimes misguided, but, as Ryan spent more and more time with him, as the youth choose to hang out at the community center more instead of the street corners with his friends, his grades were improving, he was staying out of trouble, and he was able to escape from his imperfect home life. It was Ryan's hope that, with his help, Aron would be able to go to college and succeed in life after he graduated from high school.

Surprisingly though, Marissa had not met him yet, and even Ryan couldn't deny the fact that he was excited to see them interact. He wanted to know if she would be able to recognize how special Aron was, and he was curious to see what the young kid would think of her, whether or not he felt comfortable with her. Without even realizing it, he was testing Marissa. Breaking him out of his trance, he heard her cheerful, twinkling voice calling out for him as she strolled through the front doors.

"Task master," Marissa teased, giggling softly at her own joke, "I'm here. What sort of manual labor are you going to have me doing today?"

Leaving his office, Ryan was confronted with the sight of her before him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Starting with her hair, she had it pulled back in pigtails, giving her a playful, innocent air, while her face was completely void of any makeup. It was obvious that her clothes were old ones she didn't care about ruining, from the plain, unadorned white t-shirt to the bleach stained jean bib overalls, to her scuffed up, worn, and slightly dirty tennis shoes. To him, she had never looked more attractive.

"You're wrong," he answered, moving to join her in the middle of the large, main room. "I thought we'd actually have some fun today?"

"So no pulling weeds and planting flowers out front, no defrosting the freezer and chipping away all the corroded ice, no lugging sports equipment up from the basement, no washing, ironing, and then folding all the bloody fabric you could find in this place?" As he nodded his head, agreeing with her statement, he couldn't help but smile when she started jumping up and down excitedly while clapping her hands together. "Yay," she exclaimed. "We're finally going to go shopping and decorate that drab office of yours. Well come on," she coaxed taking his hand in hers and trying to pull him towards the doors, "what are you waiting for? Let's get going."

"We're not going shopping. My office is fine just the way it is."

"Yeah, if you're going for the inside of a mental institution look, then you're all set."

"Listen," he said, his hand still in hers as he pulled her towards an oblivious Aron, "I thought it was time that you meet some of the kids who come here. Before, we did other things so I could make sure that you weren't going to up and quit on me, but, now that I know you're a reliable volunteer, I want you to get to know the people you're helping. Plus," Ryan admitted, shrugging his shoulders in a nervous manner, "I normally just hang out with the kids on Sundays. All this manual labor has been especially for you."

"I should be mad at you," Marissa said crossly, glaring at him, "but," she admitted as a grin took over her face, "I'm too excited about not having to work and meeting all the kids who come here to risk insulting you. You, being as mean and cruel as you are, might change your mind and stick me with something as mundane as washing windows."

"Perfect idea for next week," he teased. "You're tall; you should be able to reach even the higher panes." Before she could protect, he held up a placating hand to stop her and tapped Aron on his shoulder. They were standing directly behind him. "Hey Aron," he started as the teenager turned around to see what his mentor and friend wanted, "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Marissa. Marissa, this is Aron. He's one of our regulars."

Ryan watched her as a genuine smile lit up her face when she extended her hand out to shake Aron's. She seemed thrilled to meet him, maybe even more so because of the fact it was obvious he was important to him. Aron, on the other hand, seemed to blush instantly, something Ryan had never seen him do before. His eyes avoided hers, he stammered when he spoke, and he appeared to be extremely nervous.

"So, what are you working on," Marissa asked him, eager to know. She moved closer to the teen's chair, leaning down to look at the computer screen. "Oh my gosh," she gushed enthusiastically, "are those….. Ryan," she turned around to speak with him, "he's working on blueprints….good ones."

"They're nothing," Aron replied modestly, closing down the program as quickly as he could and moving to stand up. As Ryan watched him, he realized his blush only continued to deepen and he seemed in a hurry to get as far away from Marissa as possible. She noticed, too. "I'm just going to….," the young man motioned behind him, but he said nothing to insinuate what he was really going to do besides escaping her presence.

"Wait," Ryan called out. Aron stopped in his tracks and turned around to face them slowly. "I thought we'd get a big game going with everyone, have a little fun today."

"Sure, um….whatever," the teenager mumbled, scuffing his boot against the floor and keeping his eyes away from Marissa.

"Is there any game you'd prefer?" He watched as the self-conscious boy nodded his head no. The action only confirmed Ryan's suspicions that something was wrong with him. Normally, Aron would always take the opportunity to insist they play football for he was a good athlete and that was his favorite sport. "Alright, well, what about you, Marissa," he asked as he turned to ask her opinion. What he saw surprised him. She was already taking off her clothes, tossing them aside. "What are you doing," he asked, moving to stand in front of her.

"Relax, Ryan," she laughed at him, "I wore cooler clothes underneath my outfit in case you had me working up a sweat. Oh, and if I get to pick the game, I want to play kickball. It's been years….probably since I was in elementary school since I got to play that. Plus, no matter how old the kids are who join us today, they'll be able to play." When she was finished, she was standing before him in a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra."

"Marissa, it's December. We might live in Southern California where the word winter means basically nothing, but you can wear more clothes than that when you go outside."

"Someone's forgotten how competitive I am," she taunted, bending over to pick up her clothes. As she ran out of the room she turned her head over her shoulder and yelled at him, "I'm going to drop these in your office and then go and get the bases and a ball out of storage. Round up the players."

With that, she disappeared leaving an amused and entertained Ryan behind. After several moments, he looked over at Aron and found him watching the door Marissa had disappeared through as if her figure was burned into his memory. Suddenly, he realized what was wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like Marissa; he liked her too much. Aron had a instant crush on her. Chuckling to himself, he went up to the young teen and slung a friendly arm across his shoulders.

"So kid," he started as they moved together to gather others to play, "tell me how your biology test went on Friday. I know you were studying pretty hard for it Thursday night when you were here?"

Instead of answering, he merely looked up at the older man, an approving smirk on his face. "Is that your girlfriend?"

Confused, Ryan asked, "what girlfriend?"

"That guy who comes around a lot," Aron answer, unable to think of the name he was searching for, "the one who talks a lot but makes more work for everyone else than he actually helps with…"

"Seth."

"Yeah, Seth," the young kid agreed with him. "He asked me what I thought of 'your lady of mischief,' 'the woman you wooed with mystery and seduction,' 'the leggiest lovely of Newport Beach' last week when he was here."

"First of all, don't ever listen to Seth close enough to memorize his lame witticisms, and, secondly, Marissa's not my girlfriend. We're friends, that's it."

Lost, Aron pushed, "but he said you two like to hook up at parties and that your Dad and her Mom walked in on you guys after the fundraiser you held here. Dude, talk about buzz kill!"

Surprising him, Ryan quickly wrapped his arms around the younger guy's neck and pulled him into a headlock. "I don't think we should be having this conversation," he warned him, playfully. "Besides, Seth's a moron. We're talking about the same guy who ate his own poop out of his diaper because he thought it was a tootsie roll." Amid peels of laughter, the teenager smugly mentioned that Ryan had not denied the fact that he had slept with Marissa, but the older man's arms gripping tighter around his neck stopped his taunting. "Now, and think carefully before you answer, is Marissa my girlfriend," he pushed Aron to respond in a statement that agreed with his own position on the topic.

"No," the kid choked out, still laughing. Finally, Ryan released him and watched with amusement flashing in his eyes as he scrambled away from him and started in the direction Marissa had gone. "But that doesn't mean you don't want her to be!"

Before Ryan could offer a response, Aron was gone, disappearing down a hallway, and out of earshot. Without wanting to face the ideas their conversation had created in his own mind, Ryan turned around and went towards a group of kids playing ping pong. Suddenly the thought of playing sports all day long was even more appealing, because, as he lost himself in the game, he would be able to escape his own thoughts about Marissa, thoughts that were starting to take over his every waking and sleeping moment.

&&&

It was late afternoon, the kickball marathon had ended with Marissa's team the victor, and then she had insisted that she treat every person at the community center to ice cream. Ryan had avoided Aron's scrutinizing stares, instead focusing his attention upon the woman who had captivated everyone's admiration. She was so exuberant, so full of life that it was impossible not to smile and laugh with her. Instantly, she had become the favorite of the young children who enjoyed her nurturing and loving manners, the preferred confident for the teenage girls who recognized a kindred spirit in her, the object of desire of all the teenage boys and old gentlemen who came to the center to play cards, and even the wives of the local grandfathers liked her because she would listen to their homemaking advice and even pretended to entertain the idea that she would let them set her up with their single son or grandson. He knew that if the community could get its wish, she would be with them every day, and Ryan wouldn't have argued with that idea.

However, he was the only one who had the opportunity to spend time with her outside of the center, to spend his nights with her as well, and, taking full advantage of the chance, he had feigned confusion as to what he should buy Kirsten for Christmas and had asked her to go back to his apartment with him so they could do some research online. So, they had ordered a large cheese and pepperoni pizza, half with mushrooms for Marissa, and were curled up on his bed, both of them dressed in a pair of Ryan's comfortable pajamas, scanning through various online stores for ideas while using his outdated laptop from college.

With a slice of pizza in one hand and a bottle of water in another, Marissa was reclined back against the pillows, her eyes closed as she thought. "There are always the usual things you could get her: perfume, clothes, a gift certificate, a piece of artwork, perhaps a weekend getaway for her and Sandy, that way it could be both of their gifts in one."

"I barely buy clothes for myself," he pointed out, motioning to his limited wardrobe that was evident through the open doors of his closet. "Perfume's too….husband like. That's something Sandy should get her, because he's the one who will get close enough to smell it."

"Um, good point," Marissa agreed with him. "It's okay for a daughter to get her mother perfume, because it's just something girls do, but I can't imagine you going and buying a bottle of it for your Mom….or well anyone for that matter." Looking at him closely, she wondered out loud, "have you ever even been in a department store before?"

"Once, it was Seth's idea," he elaborated. "Scariest experience of my life, and there's no way anyone will ever get me in one again."

"Oh, I guarantee you that I could get you to do just about anything."

"Likewise," Ryan returned arrogantly, setting his laptop aside. With just her hint of intimacy, he immediately began to flirt. Taking her food and drink out of her hands, the piece of pizza actually in mid motion as it moved towards her open mouth, he kept talking. "Gift certificates are lame. It just says that the person doesn't know you well enough to actually figure out a gift you would like. Artwork is just not my area of expertise, and Kirsten's never really been too into it anyway. As for a weekend getaway, they've been just about everywhere. I want to get her something original, something she'd never think to buy for herself"

"Hm," she pondered thoughtfully, her food still very much on her mind, "and how do you expect me to come up with a genius idea if I'm thinking on an empty stomach?"

"Empty," Ryan chuckled, nudging her playfully and eliciting a scowl, "please. You've already had three pieces. Plus, we had ice cream two hours ago. How can you still be hungry?"

"I worked up quite an appetite," she explained defensively. "We played kickball all day. How are you not still hungry?"

"I am hungry….just for other things, and, the sooner you put your brilliance to work and give me an idea, the sooner I can satisfy that….hunger."

Suddenly, food was the very last thing on Marissa's mind. "Jewelry," she answered without moving her gaze from Ryan's, his face so close to hers she felt as if she was staring into a mirror at her own eyes. "A woman always loves jewelry, any kind, and shape, and style." He merely kept watching her, his tongue sneaking out quickly to lick his lips in anticipation, while she was in a trance watching his every motion, wanting him, needing him, craving him. The desire she felt fueled her mind. "A mother's ring," she spoke up again quickly. Impatiently, she grabbed his hands and guided them to her body, slipping one under the loose confines of his t-shirt she had on and the other inside of the waistband of his sweatpants she was wearing, relishing the look of surprise and pleasure on his face when he discovered she had_ forgotten_ to put on anything else underneath his clothes. "You and Seth could go in on the ring together, split the cost," she continued to explain breathlessly as his fingers danced across her inviting body, her senses teased and taunted to the point where her eyes slipped closed in bliss and her lips parted and panted for him to continue, to increase the speed and intensity of his hands' attention, to take her places only he could. "Because there are only two of you, you could include her birthstone in the center," she pointed out helpfully, completely shocked that she was still capable of thinking rationally about anything but the feelings Ryan was invoking in her. When his fingers slipped out of her, when his touch left the aroused skin of her shivering breast, Marissa moaned out in complaint until he appeased her by ripping off her clothes in one hasty motion, doing the same to himself as she opened her eyes to glance up at him appreciatively. He leaned over her, positioning his body to enter her, to satisfy her while his mouth continued to stimulate her since his hands were occupied by holding her hips tightly flush to his own. He kissed her abdomen, licked her breasts, tasted her mouth over and over again as she struggled to breathe. Finally, when he moved his attention to her cleavage again, his face buried between her two round, firm, perfect breasts, she was able to speak one last time. "I could...help you….design it," she panted out between whimpers of ecstasy, "if you want."

"Good girl," Ryan teased as he slammed into her and completely obliterated anything in her mind except for her undeniable attraction to the man who was lying on top of her. "Now you get your reward."

&&&

"Is there any of that pizza left," Marissa asked lazily as she ran her hands contently up and down Ryan's bare torso. It was several hours later, the night sky cloaked in darkness and gentle rain, and they were both physically and mentally exhausted. After engaging in each other multiple times, in many different positions, Ryan was sitting between Marissa's naked lags as he leaned into her while she wrapped her limbs around his glistening, warm body. She loved sitting like that with him. It felt as if she was taking care of him, comforting him, savoring him. True, they weren't a couple….merely friends who sometimes did very pleasant things together, but there was something about holding a man so intimately that sent a thousand and one thrills through Marissa's entire body.

"Um hum," Ryan sighed in answer, his head lolling against her chest. "Do you want me to warm it up for you?"

"No, cold's good." She kissed his neck gratefully as he repositioned himself in front of her after reaching over and picking up the discarded box for her. "So, what am I doing," she pondered. When he craned around to look at her with a confused expression on his face, she explained. "I mean, what time do you want me to leave, to go home?"

"Why don't you just spend the night," Ryan suggested, avoiding her eyes. "It's raining out, and we don't need you driving home late and getting into a wreck." They both knew the shower was more of a mist, putting her in no danger of having a car accident, but neither questioned the excuse or even thought about analyzing it. Lightening his tone, he teased her, "the community center doesn't need to lose a valuable volunteer."

"You mean a volunteer who's a pushover and will let you boss them into submission."

"Boss; seduce," he replied sarcastically. "You say apples, I say oranges."

"Hey, that works both ways, Mister," Marissa played along, reaching her graceful hands down to grip him firmly. "In fact," she continued, still not letting go of him, "I've seen and watched you at work, gotten to know you professionally….and personally, so I think it's time you do the same for me."

"I barely make enough money to pay my bills and stock a little bit away for emergencies," he answered her. "There's no way I could employ you to invest for me."

"I didn't mean that," she dismissed his concern. "Besides, I don't sleep with clients. What I was talking about was you coming to work with me one day, helping me out, keeping me company, you know, judging for yourself what type of woman I am instead of listening to all the gossip that floats around about me." When Ryan went to protest, she interrupted him. "Don't try to deny it. I'm sure Seth and even Sandy told you I was basically a cold, ruthless, feminist bitch, and perhaps they're right to some extent, but that's mainly the front I put up to protect myself. Few people know the real me."

What she was insinuating was that she wanted him to be one of the few people in her life who understood and saw her for who she really was, but, just like before, they both ignored the underlying connotation of her words and reminded themselves, privately, that they were just affable acquaintances who sometimes slept together with no strings attached.

"Sure," he finally responded after several seconds of thought. "I'm off Tuesday. How about I drive up and meet you at your apartment, and then we can go into your office together."

"Great," she agreed with him, reaching for the remote and switching on the TV. Without even thinking or talking about it, she put it on a program they both liked, and the two settled even deeper into each others arms as they enjoyed the colorful entertainment on the screen before them and the comforting presence of their companion lying with them on the bed.

&&&

Sighing in slight frustration, Ryan rang the doorbell again Tuesday morning as he waited for Marissa to answer her door. He knew she was there, because her car was parked out in the street in front of the apartment, his pulled in right behind it. It was doubtful that she had forgotten about his coming with her to work, because she had called him the night before to make sure he was still coming. However, it was highly probably that she had accidentally slept in, because their quick phone call had turned into a long conversation that stretched late into the night as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind.

"Come on, Marissa," he called out doubting that she would hear him. However, as soon as the words left his mouth, her front door was flung back hastily as she ushered him inside. Like he had suspected, she was still in her pajamas.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, motioning with her hand down a hallway. "Just let me go and get ready, and we'll head for my office. I'll be quick, promise," she added as she jogged out of the room, the soft sound of her feet hitting off the wooden floor the only other noise in the still apartment. He looked around the space and was surprised by what he saw. It was small, inviting, unpretentious, and warm. He felt comfortable in her home. There wasn't fancy, expensive, priceless artwork decorating the walls and table tops but personal mementoes and photographs. Although her furniture and electronics were obviously of good quality, they weren't top of the line, overly pricy, or exceedingly large. From what he could tell, there was just a living room, kitchen, and, peering down the hallway, three other doors which he assumed went to her bedroom, a guest room, and a bathroom. Already she was proving the idle gossip he had heard about her wrong.

"There's coffee and tons of food in the kitchen," she called out to him. "Help yourself."

"Thanks, but I already ate at home."

"Well then, eat again. I eat all day long, so you'll need to learn to keep up with me. Oh," Marissa added eagerly, "would you mind pouring me a cup of coffee while you're waiting? I'm not sure what I want to eat yet. I'll figure that out when I'm done."

Rolling his eyes as he realized it would probably be a while before they left for her office if she still planned on eating, he, without a word of complaint, moved towards her quaint kitchen and did as she asked, chuckling to himself when he saw how big her coffee cubs were; they were more like bowls. Shrugging his shoulder, he gave in and poured himself a cup, too. After all, he assumed he would be waiting around with nothing else to do for a while. Just as he took his first sip though, he heard her bustling into the room, taking him off guard so that he jumped and accidentally spilled some of the steaming hot liquid down the front of his crisp, white dress shirt.

"You were too overdressed anyway," she dismissed his spill, laughing at him softly. As he glanced up at her, he started staring in confusion, ignoring her question. "Are you alright? You didn't burn yourself, did you?"

"You haven't even started to get dressed," he complained, alternating his focus between her pajama clad body and slipper wearing feet to her hand which was resolutely making quick work of removing his shirt.

"We better get this in the wash before it's stained." Stripping it off of his shoulders, she moved back towards the hallway, calling over her shoulder. "Bring the coffee with you," insinuating that he should follow.

"Marissa," he called out as he tried to get her back on the task at hand of getting dressed, "don't you need to hurry up? Don't you have clients to meet?"

"Nope, no clients today," she replied breezily as she dropped his shirt in her economical washer. "I normally only meet with clients on Mondays and Fridays unless it's an emergency." After putting detergent into the water, she closed the lid of the machine and left the bathroom. "As for getting dressed, I technically am already. Who says I have to wear business attire when the only person who is going to see me today is you." Puzzled, he watched her closely as she continued to talk, taking his hand in hers and guiding him across the hall to the only door, the door he had assumed led to her spare bedroom, he had yet to see what was inside of it. "I told you I have a bad rep for no reason, but, if you want to get technical, we're actually early. Although they're unnecessary, my technical hours of business are nine to five, and it's only a quarter till." Pushing the door open, she led him into the room. Immediately, he saw that it was set up as an office. "Welcome to 'Cooper Retirement Planning,' your all in one investment services firm. My name is Marissa, the CEO, president, owner, and sole employee. How may I help you?"

His mouth fell open in shock, but she merely giggled at him, flopping down into her desk chair and spinning around like a playful, innocent child. It was going to be an interesting day, she was turning out to be a woman of one surprise after another, and their friendship was blossoming into more before their very eyes….although neither of them would admit it. Despite both of their best efforts, what was going on between them was very Newport, tangled, complicated, and full of pretense and self-deception.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Finally. After a twelve hour day at work, Ryan was finally home, and, as he collapsed onto his bed, the fast food he had stopped to pick up on his way there tossed aside for when he mustered enough energy to eat it, he made a solemn promise to himself that no matter what, no one and nothing would disturb him from a quiet, peaceful, uninterrupted night of nothing. It was days like the one he had just had that made him question whether or not all his hard work did any good.

He had been forced to fire a young high school employee he had brought onto the staff part time because he caught them stealing, something he never could forgive or forget, especially when he made it perfectly clear to his employees that if they were ever short at the end of the month when it came time to pay their bills, all they had to do was come to him and he would do whatever he could to help them. Just as with all his other employees, the girl knew his rules, broke them anyway, and then had to pay the consequences, no matter how much Ryan regretted it. Then, to make matters worse, he hadn't seen Aron for days, and there were rumors swirling around the neighborhood that trouble was brewing, and he feared he had somehow gotten involved. When he had called his house, the number had been disconnected, for, he could only assume, his family not paying their bill on time. Desperate, he had even driven to Aron's house after he had left the center, but no one was home, the building was dark, and so he simply had to sit back, wait, and worry.

Mindlessly, he flipped the tv on, not even paying attention to the unintelligent noise filtering through his small bedroom; it was solely to numb his sense of ineffectiveness and to drown out the silent doubts that were assaulting his exhausted mind. He knew there were other things he should do: there were old dishes with stuck on food to be washed, laundry to be done before he ran out of such necessary items such as socks and boxers, and he needed to start looking for a replacement at work to fill the suddenly vacant part-time position, but the only thing Ryan would consider doing besides sleeping and eating was taking a well deserved, relaxing, scalding hot shower. There was just one other feat he would be willing to take on, but, seeing as how it was the middle of the work week, he highly doubted she would call him.

So, resigned to spending the night alone in his bed, Ryan laid back against his rather flat pillows and sighed loudly, taking a deep, cleansing breath before letting it out, the audible stream of air flowing from his lips stopping instantly when the sound of his cell sounded throughout his apartment. He had left it on his kitchen counter when he had walked in, and, if it wasn't for the fact that he knew Aron had his number in case he needed something, he would have just let the phone ring on and on without answering it. By the time he picked it up, he knew it was about to go to voicemail, so he never even bothered to check his caller id, flipping it open and speaking immediately instead.

"Yeah," he greeted the person on the other line of the phone, not worrying about pleasantries or polite conversation, but the caller never said a word. He knew they were still there, for he could hear them breathing, but he was not patient enough to wait around for someone to make up their mind whether or not they wanted to talk to him. Gruffly, he barked, "listen, either tell me who you are and what you want or hang up. I'm not in the mood to play games." Still, there was no response, so he was going to hang up, an angry scowl on his face, but, just as he went to end the call, he heard a soft, hesitant, frightened voice call out his name.

"Ryan." It was so quiet, he could barely hear it, but it was there, and there was only one person in the world who said his name like that, whose voice could stop him dead in his tracks and make him forget all his cares.

"Hey," he greeted her, surprising even himself when he was unable to wipe the slightly giddy smile off of his face. His evening was unexpectedly looking up. "I didn't think I'd hear from you tonight, but you're going to have to speak up a bit, because I can barely hear you. We must have a bad connection or something."

"No, it's just me," she told him, her voice only rising slightly in volume. Before continuing, he could hear her sniffle. "Are you busy?"

"Just going to have something to eat while I lounge in bed, relax a little. It was a really long day. What're you up to? Do you want to come over? I'll share my fries with you."

"I'm sorry," she choked out, stifling a sob. "I shouldn't have called and bothered you, but I didn't know who else to call. My Mom's not good in situations like this, and Summer's just….too much sometimes, but you're busy. I'll just….call a cab or something."

"Wait," Ryan yelled out in an attempt to get her attention before she hung up. "What's wrong?"

"It's really no big deal," she dismissed her own suffering. "I'm being a baby and making a big deal out of nothing."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that."

Speaking rapidly, Marissa confessed, "I was on my way back from picking up some groceries tonight and I got in a car accident. He was just there….before I could even react; I never saw him coming, but luckily he hit the passenger side of my car or…" Her voice trailed off as she was unable to finish her statement, but Ryan understood exactly what she had meant. _She was lucky he hit the passenger side of her car, because otherwise, she'd be dead._ "They had to tow my car away, because it's totaled, and, even if it wasn't, I'm not supposed to be driving because of the pain medication the doctors have me on. I was going to ask you to pick me up, but that's ridiculous. You're 45 minute away, you've had a long day, and the last thing you need to do is come and pick me up from the hospital because I'm overreacting. Like I said, I'll just…."

"I'm on my way," he cut her off, not giving her the chance to say, once again, that she'd just call a cab. Suddenly, it didn't matter that he had had a terrible day, that he couldn't find Aron, and that he was still unwilling to examine the reason behind why it was so important to him that Marissa had called him when she was hurt, scared, and needing help and why it was so important for him to be the person she could turn to; all that mattered was that she had asked, and he would do anything to make her feel better.

&&&

While Ryan was scrounging around her cupboards, Marissa was comfortably positioned on her couch, a wide assortment of pillows and blankets carefully arranged around her aching body, and he had everything she might need to keep her entertained, the remote, several books from her shelves, her cell phone, laptop, even the newspaper within reach. It had been years since someone had taken care of her when she wasn't feeling well, and, though she thought it sweet of Ryan, she had no idea why he was being so nice, so attentive. They weren't dating. True, they were friends, but she hadn't even felt comfortable enough with Summer, her best friend since elementary school, to call and ask her for help. More importantly, she was worried about having to repay him for his kindness. There was nothing she enjoyed more than spending a night in bed with him, but her whole body was sore and her nerves were on edge, so the last thing she could do was have sex.

"So, what do you want me to make you," Ryan called out from Marissa's kitchen, snapping her from her private thoughts. "There's really not much to choose from." As he kept talking, he moved his way into the living room. "Should I just order us something?"

"My groceries," she remembered, irrational tears forming in her eyes. "Of course, they're still in the car. They were the whole reason I was out driving in the first place, but stupid me had to forget about them and let the tow truck take them away." Looking up at him with apologetic eyes, she continued, "I'm sorry, Ryan. I completely forgot about being low on food, so don't worry about it. I just….won't eat anything. I'll be fine."

"Don't do that," he chided her softly, sitting down on the couch. "Marissa, I don't care about you not having any groceries. Hell, I'll go out and get you some new ones."

"No," she cried out, jarring her body as she went to pull him back down beside her only to screamed in pain. "You can't do that!"

Insisting, he pointed out, "the store's not that far away from here. I'll just run out quickly, pick you up a few essentials…"

"You don't get it," she kept protesting. "What if you….I mean….it could happen again."

"Oh, Marissa," he stared into her deep, pooling blue eyes, "nothing's going to happen to me. I'll be fine." When she went to argue with him again, he stopped her abruptly by putting a finger gently against her lips. "But, if it would make you feel better, I won't go anywhere….for now. Eventually though, I'm going to have to drive back home, and you're going to have to start driving again as soon once we get you a new car and your doctor gives you clearance."

"I know," she acknowledged what he had said, "but…for tonight…"

"Tonight, I'll just stay here. Like I said, we'll order in some take out, your choice, and we'll sit up all night and watch whatever you want. I'll do whatever I can to make you feel better."

In barely a whisper, she confessed, "you already are," moving her tender body closer to his and kissing his mouth softly.

Breaking the embrace, he rested his forehead against her own, his breath tickling her face as he spoke. "I should…um….get that food ordered."

"Wait," Marissa called him back to her, taking his hand in hers to make sure he stayed by her side. "I know we normally….you know….do stuff…" Her eyes, as she spoke, avoided his, and the blush quickly covering her cut cheeks made him realize what she was referring to. "But I can't do that tonight; I'm too sore. I know you drove all the way here, but…will you take a rain check for when I'm feeling better."

Chuckling, Ryan knelt down in front of her, cupping her face as gently as he could to make her look up at him. "Hey," he teased her, "we're friends, and friends help each other out. I didn't come here looking for sex. I came here to take care of you. You don't owe me anything….not that I would turn it down if you were so inclined, mind you, but no rain check is required, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, offering him a bashful smile. With one last brush of his soft thumb against her battered cheek, he stood up and made his way towards the kitchen, the phone, and the take out menus. "Oh," she yelled after him, "can we have Chinese? Shrimp Fried Rice sounds great right about now."

"Coming right up."

Two hours later with the lights off and the television casting shadows upon them as Marissa lounged in Ryan's strong, safe arms, their half eaten containers of take out tossed aside to rest forgotten on the coffee table, he stared at the program before him, annoyed with himself for caring about what was happening. "This is just insane," Ryan complained, lifting his free arm that was not around Marissa to motion towards the fluttering figures conversing on the screen. "You cannot honestly tell me that these people should be together. He is clearly in love with his best friend, and she acts as if she's hiding something…almost as if she's having an affair. Is it with that mysterious foreign guy?"

When she didn't answer him, Ryan glanced down at the woman resting in his arms and realized she was fast asleep. As he watched her chest rise and fall with every breath she took, he found himself closing his eyes and offering a word of thanks that she was alright. After never thinking he would see her again, she had just magically entered back into his life months before, and he was not ready to let her leave it again. Upon readjusting his gaze, he reached for the remote to turn the tv off, chuckling to himself that after he had complained for a steady five minutes at Marissa's choice of watching soaps, he had gotten invested in the show enough to ask her questions about it….not that he would ever tell her that though.

"Hey," he nudged her gently in an attempt to wake her without startling her too abruptly, "come on. I'll help you into bed."

Without opening her eyes, she simply nestled herself deeper into his body. "Stay," she asked, her one word making her intentions quite clear.

"Okay," Ryan promised, standing up and lifting her from the couch into his arms. "I'll sleep out here." Her head lulled against his chest for she had already slipped back to sleep. Laying her down on her bed, he pulled her blankets up around her, tucking her in. "Sleep tight," he said softly, letting his hand brush aside the hair that had fallen down onto her innocent face.

Just as he went to move away, she spoke up once again, lazily reaching out her bruised arm for him. "Stay," she mumbled, using the same word from moments before, sliding her battered body across the expanse of her wide, inviting bed. Without any hesitation, Ryan stripped off his clothes, needing to remove the restricting attire he had been wearing since seven in the morning when he had left for work. In nothing but his boxers, he climbed under the covers, wrapping his arms around Marissa to hold her close. Minutes later, they were both fast asleep, neither of them questioning their actions for they simply came naturally to them….whether they were just friends as they claimed or slightly more.

&&&

The next morning Ryan was lying in bed when his cell phone started ringing. While simply enjoying the feeling of not having to go into work for he had called off, he had relished in watching Marissa sleep, stifling his laughter when he would notice her cute, individual quirks, like when she would wiggle her nose if a stray hair tickled her instead of reaching up with a hand to brush the nuisance away from her face or how her leg would occasionally twitch every few minutes when she would get too warm under the heavy comforter, one he had long since kicked off his own overheated legs. Before he could answer his mobile in hopes of letting her sleep longer, Marissa's phone started ringing, too, and she, upon hearing the shrill noise, began mumbling in a deep, raspy, tired voice.

"Too early," she complained, resituating her body in Ryan's arms to turn around and lay her head against his bare chest. Too exhausted from her heavy medication, she was not aware of the fact that she was not alone.

Eventually though, whoever was calling them both gave up, and the silence could, once again, wash over the small apartment as Ryan went back to observing the woman slumbering in his arms. He noticed a tiny scar above her left eyebrow, one that was practically blended into her otherwise flawless skin. The fist she had balled upon his chest was tightly clenched, and he discerned how she folded her thumb inside the palm of her hand instead of letting it rest on the outside of her fingers. Ryan even studied her earlobe, finding it amusing that she had a delicate, light freckle on the tip of it. But his observations were interrupted again by the sound of their cells ringing simultaneously.

"If this person is not in intensive care yet," Marissa growled, sitting up in bed to reach for her phone, "they will be by the time I'm…." But her voice trailed off when she became aware of Ryan watching her with amusement evident on his face. "What are you doing here," she asked him, her eyes wide with embarrassment. "I mean…don't you have to work today?"

"There's no way I'd be able to help anyone when I'd be worried about you all day long." Smirking he picked his mobile up and motioned towards hers as well. "Don't you think you should answer that?" She simply nodded before slowly reaching across his body to retrieve her cell off of the bedside table.

"Hello," they greeted their insistent callers at the same time. "What now?" Their responses were identical, making them both grin at the coincidence. "Fine," an irritated Ryan barked into his phone, while Marissa agreed to her caller's request with a sarcastic "whatever," the two of them hanging up, once again, at the exact same moment.

"That was Seth," he offered for an explanation, tossing his phone back onto the nightstand. "He says he has something important to tell me, something I can't excuse my way out of. I'm supposed to meet him at Sandy and Kirsten's in an hour."

"That's weird, because Summer just called me, and she said something pretty similar."

"How are we going to do this," Ryan posed, quirking his eyebrow at her. "There's no way we can both shower and leave for the Cohens' in forty-five minutes."

"Guess we'll just have to share."

Who was he to argue with Marissa's logic? So, after they both scrambled out of the bed, they made their way towards the bathroom together, Ryan helping her and making sure she didn't overly exert herself. Even if they couldn't enjoy the experience to its full potential, there was no way they would make it to meet their friends on time.

&&&

"Holy hell, Coop," Summer exclaimed upon seeing her best friend walk into the sunny confines of the Cohen kitchen. Not caring if people saw the marks from her accident, Marissa hadn't bothered to put cover up on to conceal the cuts and bruises she had sustained. "You look like a post black Friday rookie shopper. What happened to you?"

"I was in a car accident," the injured young woman replied, glancing shyly at the four pairs of eyes staring intently at her. Only Ryan remained nonchalant and normal. "It's no big deal; I'll be fine, just a few scratches, nothing major."

"Honey, why don't you sit down," Kirsten offered, pulling out a chair for her. "You shouldn't be over doing it so soon after the wreck. Should you even be out of bed this soon?"

"Thanks," Marissa offered softly as she sat down in the chair the older woman insisted she take. "And it's okay if I'm out of bed…I'm okay. I just have to take it easy for a few days." With pleading eyes, she begged Ryan to sit down beside her. Soon, everyone else joined them around the table, Sandy, who was watching the two young, blonde haired adults closely, and Kirsten both at the head of the table while Seth and Summer sat across from Ryan and Marissa.

"Why didn't you leave me a voice mail," Summer spoke up again, refocusing the conversation. "I would have hurried home to help you."

"It's fine," Marissa assured her. "Another friend helped me out." Curious and wanting to change the subject, she asked, "where were you anyway? I mean, it's kind of strange to call and ask me to meet you here at ten in the morning on a Thursday. Is everything okay?"

"Trust me," Seth quipped with a smug smirk on his face, "she's as fine as frog hair."

"I can answer for myself, Cohen!" Casting her eyes at the four adults listening intently to her words, Summer continued, her tone slightly less hostile. "We know that it was an inconvenience for you all to meet us here, seeing as how you all have real jobs while Cohen and I don't, but something big happened last night, something life altering, mind blowing huge."

"The fact that you two are even talking is throwing me for a loop," Sandy admitted, shrugging his shoulders as to what else could be going on. "Anything else is just going to be gravy."

"I think they've been getting along now for a while," Ryan taunted his adopted brother, communicating with Marissa out of the corner of his eye. "Isn't that right?"

"When was it that we saw them together acting quite friendly? Oh, that's right, it was the night of the fundraiser at the center," Marissa joined in on the teasing, grinning at her horrified friend, "and Ryan and I saw you two sneak out together, laughing and carrying on while your hands were all over each other. What ever happened that night, Sum?"

"Maybe, instead, we should talk about why you and Ryan were alone together that night," the baited brunette snapped back. "Did the two of you decide to have a repeat performance of the breast cancer charity event?"

"Would someone just tell us what's going on," Kirsten demanded, searching around the table for a face with answers. "I'm so confused at this point, I'm not even sure who has news to share."

"She's right," Sandy sided with his wife. "We're getting off topic." Shooting a sympathetic look in Ryan and Marissa's direction before he continued, he showed them that he would not share their secret. Despite being taken advantage of in the bet, he respected their privacy and was himself quite curious as to what Seth and Summer's news was. "We're here so the two of you," he indicated the brunettes sitting beside each other, "can tell us something, so, out with it."

"It really is a long, complicated story," Seth revealed, grinning widely at his father, mother, brother, and his brothers special friend. "You see, yesterday morning while Summer and I were….basking in the afterglow of our carnal bliss, we realized that we fit well together….in more ways than one. So, weighing our options, we discovered that we were of a similar mind and wanted the same thing. While she packed our bags, because I'm really not too good with picking out a non-cringe worthy ensemble, I made the necessary phone calls to procure the legal documents we would need to enter into the connubial conundrum, the matrimonial mystery, the wedded…."

"We eloped," Summer interrupted him, jumping out of her chair and flashing her left hand towards the others around the table, "in Vegas! We're married!"

No one said a word. Minutes passed, and the only things that progressed were the looks of utter shock on the faces of Sandy, Kirsten, Ryan, and Marissa, the look of dismal disappointment on Summer's face, and the look of cheery amusement on Seth's. Unable to take the silence a moment longer, the new bride demanded, "somebody say something."

"Are you pregnant," Kirsten wondered out loud, looking from her son to her sudden daughter-in-law, but it was definitely the wrong thing to say. Frustrated, Summer pushed back her chair and stomped out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her as she made her way towards the poolhouse.

"She's slightly temperamental," Seth explained with an easy smile dominating his countenance. "I'm just going to go make sure she doesn't commit a first degree felony." With that, he slipped out the door to follow his wife.

Excusing herself quietly, Kirsten stood up from the table and, as if in a daze, made her way towards her bedroom. "I'll walk you two out," Sandy offered, ushering them towards the front door. "I don't think either of you will want to hang around here today. It's bound to be slightly stressful, and, after your car accident, Marissa, you don't need that."

"No, she doesn't," Ryan agreed with his adoptive father. The three of them exchanged goodbyes before the blondes left together. Half way down the driveway to his truck, he noticed that Marissa's pace was slowing, so, wrapping his arm around her waist, Ryan pulled her in to lean against him, supporting her as they continued to make their way towards the waiting vehicle. Unbeknownst to them, a very interested man was watching them out the window of his office, observing their interactions and the obvious natural chemistry they shared, noticing that they behaved more as a couple than the newlyweds who were camped out in his poolhouse.

&&&

Later that evening, Marissa was alone in her apartment, merely lounging in her favorite chair, the forgotten stock page tossed aside as she relaxed her eyes and went over the day in her mind. After they had returned from the Cohens', Ryan had taken her grocery shopping, surprising her when he held her hand for the entire drive, squeezing it tightly as they passed through the intersection her car had been hit the day before. Then they had spent the rest of the afternoon in her apartment, discussing Seth and Summer's surprising news, napping, and getting crumbs throughout her bed as they snacked on junk food the entire time. It was the most peaceful day she had spent with someone else in years. When she was with Ryan, she could just be herself with no pretenses or facades, and that was pleasantly more than enough for him.

Before dinner, he had gone home, promising to call and check in on her before he went to bed that night. He had things to do, dishes and laundry he had been putting off more a few days, there were work issues he needed to deal with, and a missing Aron had to be found. Though privately she knew she would miss him, especially when it came time to go to sleep that night, Marissa would not admit the reason why she craved his presence so much. So, ignoring it, she went about her evening, taking it easy per both her doctor's and Ryan's orders, and when her doorbell sounded with no warning, she was curious as to who could be there. Her only guess was that Summer's wedded bliss had ended early, and she was there looking to hide from her loving husband.

Pulling the door open, she was confronted with an utterly destroyed Ryan, nothing like the simmering pint sized brunette she had been expecting. "Ryan, what's wrong," she questioned him immediately, taking him by the hand to pull him into the apartment and closing the door behind him once they were both inside. When he said nothing, she, with their fingers still tightly clasped together, led him back into her bedroom, carefully lowering him to sit on her bed. Climbing in beside him, she sat with her legs crossed, waiting for when he would be ready to talk. Slowly, as if reality was settling in, he locked his intense blue gaze with her own, his face crumbling into a visage full of pain and sheer misery.

"I didn't know where else to go," he admitted, reaching out to take her free hand in his so that both their limbs were joined together. Swallowing thickly, he added, "it's Aron."

"Did you get in a fight with him?"

"God, I wish," Ryan choked out, letting go of her to bury his head in his hands. Startling her, a strangled sob escaped his pale, clenched lips. "I knew something was wrong. I haven't lived in Chino off and on my whole life not to recognize when trouble's brewing, but I wasn't that worried about him. He's turned his life around, doesn't hang out with his old gang anymore, but, in Chino, it doesn't matter who you're friends with, you're still not safe." Marissa just listened as he talked, his tone void of feeling as if he needed to distance himself emotionally from his story in order to tell it. "I barely looked for him after he seemed to have disappeared. His phone was disconnected, and, when I went to his house, no one was home, but I should have called the school, checked in to make sure he had been attending all his classes, but I didn't. I should have gone down to the park where he played ball in the afternoons, asked around with his friends, paid a visit to where his Dad works, but I didn't. And now," Ryan looked up at her, breaking off his confession, "it's too late."

"What happened," she insisted, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. "Did he get into trouble, end up in jail, because, if so, I'll do whatever I can to help him. He's a good kid who just needs a break. I can give that to him."

"He's not in trouble; he's not in jail," he revealed, "because he's dead." A staggered, distressed sob broke free from Marissa's mouth, but Ryan kept talking. "He was shot, died instantly the police said, during an attempted robbery, but, unlike most kids who die in Chino, he wasn't the one doing something wrong. He was just there in the convenient store trying to get a job, because money's always pretty tight in his house with his Dad working to support him and his two younger sisters. That's why he hadn't been around much recently: he'd been out trying to help his family, doing the right thing. Do you know what makes me literally sick about the whole thing," Ryan asked her rhetorically. "They're calling him ACDC on the streets, Aron, 'collateral damage' Cianci. Those guys were supposed to be his friends, and they refer to him as nothing more than fucking collateral damage!"

"Hey, hey," Marissa coaxed him to look and listen to her, the anger flashing through his eyes scaring her, "come here." Lying down, she brought him with her, resting his head against her chest. Rhythmically, she caressed his forehead, smoothing his ruffled, errant locks of dirty blonde hair down with her steady motions. "I'm so sorry," she empathized with him. "I'm so sorry."

Eventually, her soothing actions help to calm him down, lulling Ryan into a fitful sleep. As she listened to him rest, his arms clenched tightly around her as if holding onto her was keeping him together, she cried silently for his loss, for the innocent life that was so unfairly taken and not appreciated for its wonderful promise, for the injustice of the world, and, as she fell asleep with him, both of them lost in their grief and pain from the rest of the world, neither heard a concerned woman slip into her daughter's apartment with the emergency key she had been given. Julie had heard about Marissa's car accident from a friend who worked at the hospital, and, wanting to make sure she was alright, she had come over to check on her little girl only to find her safely held in two capable, loving arms. Without a word, she slipped silently back out the door she had so surreptitiously entered moments before, swiftly starting to wonder if her daughter's bet had turned into something of more substance and value, if her deceitful seduction had become a meaningful relationship….despite her own knowledge.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Collapsing into his tired, worn, and ultimately comfortable brown leather chair, Sandy Cohen picked up the file on the top of his ever expanding mountain of paperwork, a mountain that was dangerously starting to buckle under its own weight and lean slightly towards the floor. He loved being a lawyer, a public defender, helping young kids get a second chance and championing the underdog, but paperwork was the bane of his existence. Despite the fact that he would be cooped up inside of his small office all afternoon working on the numerous court documents he had to prepare, he was still smiling widely; after all, even though there were pages upon pages of destroyed trees awaiting his perusal and signature, it was a glorious day.

It had started early that morning when his alarm went off on the local news station, their six am surfing report bringing an ecstatic, childlike enthusiasm into his 44 year old body, for the waves were high, the water temperature brisk, and the beach was calling his name. After riding the breakers for several hours, he had returned home to be greeted with both good news, Seth and Summer had decided to move out of the poolhouse and into an apartment, and a frisky wife who was looking to celebrate in the best possible way: a party meant only for two. And, as he sat there at his desk, albeit slightly late but definitely energetic enough to make up for the lost time, he realized the day, up to that point, had been practically perfect. With the soft, soulful strains of Solomon Burke filling his rather dusty office, the sun's rays cascading through the window to land warmly on his suit jacket clad back, and the perfectly smeared bagel in his hand as he occasionally brought to his mouth to take a bite, completely oblivious to the cream cheese that was sticking to the corners of his mouth, even paperwork didn't seem that daunting. Yes, life was good for Sandy Cohen, and he had a feeling it was going to be a wonderful day with absolutely no surprises. He should have known better.

Not even ten minutes later, his secretary buzzed him, uttering ten words he had always hoped he would never hear.

"Mr. Cohen," the middle aged, office proficient spoke clearly through the phone, "there's a Julie Cooper here to see you."

If asked later, he would have sworn the birds outside his window literally stopped chirping as soon as the haunting sentence assaulted his senses. It was safe to say surprised didn't even begin to describe his state of shock, so he just sat there, dumbfounded, not saying a word, his breakfast still perched right before his face.

"Uh…Mr. Cohen," his secretary prodded him again, but when he didn't say anything, she just continued. "Sandy! Should I show Mrs. Cooper in?"

"Okay….yeah….I mean, yes, please show her in." And before he could brace himself, she was there, red hair flaming, collagen injected lips pursing, eyes smirking in amusement. "What can I do for you, Julie? You do know that I don't handle private cases, so unless the authority of Orange County appointed me as your public defender, I really don't see why you're here."

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped in response, settling down in the chair across from him despite never receiving an offer to do so. "I'd never come to you for legal help. This is not a professional call."

"That's what I was afraid of," he sighed, "because if it's not professional, that means it's personal, and I have to tell you that scares the pants off me."

"Well you without pants scares me, so we're even," she countered. "I guess that puts us on an even playing field." He had to give her the credit; she could banter with the best of them. Nodding his head in an accepting manner, he indicated for her to continue. "I'm here to discuss our children," she revealed looking him straight in the eye. "I'm here to discuss my daughter, Marissa, and your son, Ryan."

"Is something wrong?"

"That depends upon how you look at it," Julie stated, her comportment and tone doing nothing to dispel Sandy's worries. "If you call being unwilling to admit their true feelings for each other as something being wrong in their relationship, then the answer is yes."

Shaking his head in slight frustration, he settled back into his seat, reclining so his arms were resting behind his head. "So, you've noticed that, too?"

"I think it's pretty obvious to anyone who observes them together that they're head over heals in love, but my stubborn daughter who has also been afraid of admitting her feelings since she was a child, something she gets from me, still claims that Ryan's merely her friend."

"A friend she spends all her free time with, a friend she sleeps with…"

"Don't forget to add a friend who's there to comfort her when she's upset and vice versa," Julie interrupted. Smiling smugly to herself when she noticed his heavy eyebrows quirk, she continued. "I don't know what happened, but last week I went to see her after I found out she had been in a car accident, and I found them wrapped securely in each other arms, tear stains on both of their faces. It was obvious she doesn't need me to take care of her anymore, because she had your son to do that now."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Julie," he spread his hands in defeat, "Ryan's just as stubborn and afraid of his emotions as Marissa is, especially when they're as deep as his appear to be for your daughter. I don't know how much the other Newpsies have informed you of, but he comes from a broken family with a lot of issues, and some of those issues still effect him despite the fact he's been with us for seven years. It's been obvious to me since the morning after we found them together at the community center that they had feelings for each other, and those suspicions were just confirmed last week when they showed up at the house together to hear Seth and Summer announce their news that they had gotten married. However, me telling him how he feels for her is just going to make him deny it even more."

"It seems our children are even more alike than we thought, because Marissa would do the same exact thing if I told her she was in love with Ryan. Oh, and, for what it's worth," she added graciously, "congratulations on your other son's marriage. Summer's an….interesting woman. He'll never be bored."

Laughing, Sandy responded, "then they're perfect for each other, because Seth definitely has a strange set of quirks himself." Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk, he observed her closely. "But I'm sure you didn't come down here to catch up and share domestic news, especially since my offices are located in a zip code your car has never seen before, so why don't we cut to the chase. The Julie Cooper I remember always had something up her sleeve, and I would bet just about anything that you have a plan to get our obstinate and tenaciously willful kids together officially."

"I do," she smiled smugly, relishing her reveal. "All we have to do is play by their rules. If they like to make bets, amuse themselves with games, and live their lives through tricks, we'll just have to be one step ahead of them and a few points higher on the IQ scale to beat them at their own sport. Are you in?"

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

Taking that for a yes, she stood up, slid her designer purse upon her shoulder and moved her way towards the door. "I'll be in touch when everything is in place. Thanks for your time, Sandy." Seeing her reach for the doorknob, he went to take his first easy breath since his secretary had interrupted his work with the announcement that Julie Cooper was there to see him, but she stopped, turned back around to face him, an amused smirk on her face, and his sigh of relief caught in his throat and nearly choked him. "Oh, and by the way," she motioned towards the corner of her own mouth, "you have a little something on your face."

And, just like that, she was gone, fleeing from his office as quickly as she had appeared, only the overwhelming scent of her expensive, feminine perfume lingering in the air letting him know that her visit had not been a carbohydrate induced hallucination. Sneaking his tongue out to quickly clear his face of the remnants of his late morning snack, he went back to work, making his way through his daunting pile of paperwork as his mind continued to wonder what Julie Cooper was up to, his hand went back to moving his bagel back and forth to his mouth, and the birds started singing again.

&&&

"Painting," Ryan asked in a disgusted tone. "We're spending the day painting?" Marissa only nodded her head quickly, a wide smile on her face, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against him. "You didn't warn me to wear old clothes. I don't want to get this shirt splattered with red paint."

"Then take it off," she whispered in a husky tone, letting her lips gently glide across the warm, tanned flesh of his neck.

"Are you going to paint topless as well?"

"Yeah right," Marissa exclaimed, pushing herself away from him and moving towards the supplies and picking up a brush. "If I take my shirt off, you'll just stare at me or, in all likelihood, try to seduce me, and I really want to finish this today."

"You're damn right I'd try to seduce you; that was the whole reason I called you to see if I could come over in the first place, and you know that. I openly admit that I lost our bet," he conceded. Holding up his hands in surrender, he moved to stand in front of her, his hands sneaking about her hips to cup her jean clad derrière in his strong and very capable palms. "Three days ago we made a wager to see who could go the longest without calling the other looking for sex…"

"A booty call," she interrupted him. It was how they described their relationship: a friendship with numerous booty calls.

"Call it what you want," he granted, "but the deal was that the loser would have to fulfill any sexual fantasy that the winner might have. Painting is not sexual."

"It's sexual if you do it naked and I get to watch," Marissa argued, widening her eyes in innocence. "And just imagine what it will be like when the room is finished. Red means passion, and you and me in my bed, in my crimson, intense bedroom, that'll be hot."

Begging to differ, Ryan pointed out, "it would be hot is we forgot about this whole, ridiculous painting idea and you let me take you right here, right now on the floor."

"Been there; done that…on many floors, but we've never done it on the floor of a red room before, and, as soon as my room's painted, we'll have to re-experience every part of it, the bed, the floor, my closet, the walls, my dresser, the chaise, and any other surface we haven't tried yet."

"Ugh, now you're just teasing me," he complained, dropping his head to moan into her chest.

"I know, and it's fun," she giggled, making him suffer in silence because she just kept talking. "And I'm going to keep torturing you until you're finished painting. No sex, no foreplay, you can't even kiss me until every spot of my walls is smothered with fiery flames of bright scarlet. Now, Sherman Williams," Marissa instructed, breaking free of Ryan's arms and handing him her paint brush, "color me red."

It was a month after Aron's death, and, despite the fact that they were practically inseparable, they both refused to admit what the other meant to them. She had gone to both the calling hours and funeral with him, her soothing caresses and soft words of comfort holding him together in the wake of his guilt and grief over losing his young friend, and, by becoming a permanent fixture in his life, she helped him to forget his pain and to move on. Somehow or other, they would end up together at one of their apartments every night, commuting back and forth between Newport and Chino so often they both felt as if they could drive the winding Southern California roads in their sleep. When they were with each other, it was playtime, whether she was surprising him by beating him at his favorite Playstation games, they were wrestling over the remote at night, Ryan always giving in and letting her watch her soaps while he pretended to hate them, or he was strumming her body so smoothly, she would hum and purr with satisfaction and pleasure. Those who saw them considered them as either a cute couple they could admire from afar or a disgustingly happy twosome who made those less gracious green with jealousy and purple with rage, but, no matter what reactions they garnered, neither Ryan or Marissa ever noticed, for they were always too lost in each other…lost in their _friendship and booty calls_.

Two hours into their painting, the sharp chime of her cell which was charging in her office interrupted Marissa's moody complaints against Ryan who was chuckling at her reactions to his penchant for putting more paint on her than the walls, his actions all in hopes of making her take off her clothes. Up until that point, he had failed, but he couldn't help but smirk at her figure as she walked out the doorway to answer her phone, for he had literally branded her with his hand prints, one covering each of her jean pockets with a red imprint of his grip. It was a sight, a physical expression that she was his, that he could get used to, but the ringing of his own mobile drug him from his thoughts before he could consider the relevance of his reaction to seeing the stamped representation of their exclusive relationship.

"So that was my Mom," Marissa revealed as she stepped back into her bedroom. "She said that she needs my help, and, normally I wouldn't leave, but this sounds serious, so…"

"Hey, don't worry about it," he dismissed her anxiety over leaving in the middle of their plans. "Sandy actually just called me, too, and he's gotten himself into quite the scrape, so I need to go bail him out."

"Then we'll meet up back here when we're both done," she realized, smiling at him. "Oh, wait here. I'll be right back." Ryan listened as her bare feet padded down the wooden floors of the hallway and into the kitchen, and he had to admire her enthusiasm when he heard her running back to him just as quickly. "Okay, so I don't know what you'll think of this, but I've been thinking that, because you spend so much time here, you should really have a way to get in and out on your own. Here," she instructed him, pushing something hidden inside her closed fingers into his outstretched hand. It was cool, metal, and thin; it was a key.

Swallowing thickly, he looked up at her, raising his free hand to cup her face. Leaning their foreheads together, he whispered, "thank you," before pulling back and placing a delicate kiss on her lips. "Come on," he said softly, "I'll walk you to your car."

Without a second thought, they left together, both called out to help their parents, Marissa still clad in her paint stained clothes and Ryan with nothing but his jeans and a wife beater on, and both totally unsuspecting of the trick being played upon them.

&&&

She had just set foot on the elevator, and, as she waited for the thick, metal doors to close so she could make her way to her truly one of a kind mother, her foot was tapping nervously and she continued to distract herself by playing with her badly in need of a manicure cuticles.

"Hold that elevator!"

Marissa knew that voice; it was one she heard continually in her dreams and in reality, but, before her distracted mind could place it, her hand reached out as if on instinct and stopped the doors from closing, allowing the man who had called out, the man she had not seen but recognized despite her lack of visual identification, to get on with her.

"Thanks," the oblivious man stated without bothering to look at her. He was preoccupied, rummaging through his wallet as he looked for something which was obviously important to him. Now though, she could see his body, and, even though it was only his back, there was no way she wouldn't recognize its lean, muscular frame. She had spent many evenings running her nails down that naked back, digging into its flesh whenever he pushed her over the edge of reason while they were having sex and gave her the most intense orgasms of her life. That back was _her_ back to recollect.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed, her apprehension fading to be replaced by a white hot streak of anger. "You followed me!"

"Marissa," he responded turning around to stare at her in a bewildered manner. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I can't believe you followed me! I told you that I had to help out my mother, and, here you are, trailing me like a jealous boyfriend who doesn't believe his girlfriend is telling him the truth, and we're not even dating!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he yelled back at her, frustrated with her venom and not understanding where it was coming from. "I told you, Sandy called me and needed my help. He told me to meet him here. If your Mom told you to come here as well, it's either a really weird coincidence or something suspicious is going on."

"You don't think….I mean, what the hell could they be up to," Marissa questioned, Ryan's sigh of relief that her animosity had vanished as quickly as it had appeared to be replaced by confusion going undetected by the suddenly puzzled woman.

"I don't know," he sighed, surprising her when he took her hand in his, "but something is going on, and we're going to figure it out." As the elevator doors opened, announced first by a soft peal of a bell, they moved from the small confines together as one. "Were you told to meet your Mom in room 421?"

"Yes, and I take it Sandy said for you to go to the same place?" The slight roll of his eyes and his accompanying smirk was all that she needed to answer her question. "I just can't imagine my Mom going to your Dad for help on anything. I mean, Sandy Cohen and Julie Cooper working together on something? I would have predicted a blizzard to hit LA before I would have expected this unholy alliance."

"The scariest part of this is that the only thing they have in common is…._us_."

Squeezing his hand tighter, Marissa waited for Ryan to open the door to the judge's chamber for them, her pointed, enraged words escaping her clenched lips before she even became acclimated with her surroundings, and she never noticed the third party standing in the room with the two guilty parents. "What the hell is this about," she demanded of her mother to answer. "You call me and tell me that you've been arrested for assaulting a police officer, and that I have to come downtown to bail you out, and then, when I get here, I find out that Ryan got a phone call from Sandy, too, and that we were both to meet the two of you secretly. I want some answers, now!"

"As do I," Ryan agreed with her statement, turning his cold, irritated glare onto his adoptive father. "Was Julie your co-counsel or your client when you were placed in contempt of court today, because, otherwise, I really don't understand what's going on here unless you lied to me?"

While the two young adults continued to glower at their deceptive parents, neither of them noticed an elderly gentleman stepping forward with an amused smile on his face. Without any ado, he simply asked, "are you ready to get married," silencing Ryan and Marissa's heated words and washing the looks of outrage off of their faces. Sandy and Julie continued to smirk, the judge waited for a response, and Ryan and Marissa simply turned to each other, eyes wide with surprise, and stared at each other for several long, tension filled moments. Finally, he broke the silence of the room."

"It'll never happened," Ryan decreed, eyeing the woman standing before him in old, paint splattered clothing, "because Marissa would never get married looking like this."

"What's wrong with the way I look," she shot out at him, her annoyance quickly reappearing at his smug attitude. He had her so incensed that she never noticed the laughter entering his eyes.

"Nothing's wrong with the way you look; I like it when you're messy, when you have those tight, faded jeans on that hug quite nicely to your shapely…backside, when you wear low cut t-shirts to taunt me into submission, when you let your hair go free and wild….life after sex hair…" He paused briefly, blushing when the sounds of Julie snorting in frustration and Sandy chuckling out of delight made him realize they weren't alone. "However, no matter how much I enjoy you looking this way, it still doesn't change the fact that you would never get married without the whole nine yards, the designer dress, the long veil, the overwhelming flowers, or the gaudy rings."

"Yeah, because I'm really that obsessed with my image," Marissa retorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes at Ryan.

"Fine," he conceded, "but even if you would get married without the whole ridiculous Newport wedding production, you would never say 'I do' without a prenup. You're too smart of a business woman to risk it."

"If I was with a man I trusted enough, a man who I believed I could spend the rest of my life with," she countered indignantly, "then a prenup would be the last thing I would need to get married. But don't pull this whole sanctimonious act on me! Like you would ever marry someone with money! Your stance on wealth is well known, and I think we all know what I'm worth financially."

"I wouldn't let the fact that a woman had money when I didn't stand in my way of marrying her if I wanted to be with her." His response was quiet but confident, and, as his eyes bore into hers, eyes that seemed to reach into her very soul, eyes that seemed to know her better than she knew herself, Marissa's breath caught in her throat for a moment before she could continue talking again.

"Yeah,…but you would never want your kids raised in Newport, and I would never let them be raised in Chino." She knew her argument was weak and that her resolve was faltering, but somehow she didn't care.

"After what happened with Aron," Ryan whispered to her, his gaze never straying to the other people in the room as they watched on with interest and confusion, "I wouldn't raise a child in Chino either."

"So," she started unsure of what else to say, "now what?"

"Well, I'd say we have two options," he answered her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "We could either leave here, letting a good opportunity to slip through our fingers and go back to painting, or you could take the risk, throw caution to the wind, and marry me."

"Is that a dare?"

Offering her a wide smile, he said, "why yes it is, and, if I know you as well as I think I do, you can never turn down a dare. So, what's it going to be? Are you leaving here single with your _friend _or are you leaving here married with your _husband_?"

&&&

Their entire suite was a wall of glass, French doors that could be opened to let in the clean, refreshing, delightful breeze that floated across the private, sultry, foreign island. It carried the warmth of the Caribbean sunshine, the aroma of the tropical flowers that surrounded their private bungalow, and the tangy essence of the ocean, and, as it fluttered the sheer curtains that separated the two blissfully happy newlyweds from the wild, untamed habitat of their surroundings, it caressed their slightly balmy skin as they prepared for bed the first night of their honeymoon. He was lounged carelessly against the doorway, his eyes never straying from his wife's luxurious form as she stepped out of the garden tub and, without any hesitance or embarrassment about being nude in front of him, walked to the vanity they shared to carefully apply her lotion before going to bed. Unable to take not having her in his arms, he moved to stand behind her, taking the bottle of cream from her hands and doing the honors of smoothing its rich, soothing, fragrant contents himself while he whispered seductively into her ear.

"Do you know when I first realized I was falling for you?" She merely shook her head no, too caught up in the moment to do anything else. "The instant you told me your name while we were lying in that fountain that first night we met was the moment you took possession of a piece of my heart, and you haven't let go since, instead, capturing the whole thing for yourself."

Curious, she asked, "why didn't you say anything?"

"For several reasons," Ryan revealed, taking his time to explain. "For one, you seemed completely disinterested, and there was no way I was going to put myself out there only to have you stomp all over my heart. Then there was also the fact that we were graduating from college, and I thought I'd never see you again. Plus, that wasn't who I was; I was Ryan Atwood, the guy from Chino who slept with any girl he wanted and never got attached, and then, finally, once we did meet up again, it was just too damn fun playing games with you to admit what I felt."

Giggling, she agreed with him. "Boy, do those reasons sound familiar. Welcome to the inner working of my neurosis."

"What about you," he pushed, wanting her to reveal the same confession. "When did you realize you were falling for me?"

"The night of the charity event you hosted for the center," she revealed, her face breaking out in a warm, happy smile as the memories overcame her for a moment. "As soon as I saw that fountain, something that you had obviously had included for me, I knew I was falling…and that I didn't want anything or anyone to catch me." They stood there in silence for a moment, his strong, protective arms wrapped around her lithe, vulnerable body, the lotion forgotten, just savoring the fact that they were finally together as more than just friends or lovers. They were a couple, a newly married couple. "There's just one thing left for us to do," Marissa interrupted the quiet of their room.

"And what's that?"

"We have to say 'I love you,' so," she slowed down her words, turning around in his embrace to look him in the eyes, a playful glint lighting up her deep, sapphire irises, "I dare you to say it first."

Surprising her, Ryan started laughing at the game she was playing. Obviously marriage was not going to stop them from teasing and tricking the other into doing things. "What do I get out of it?"

"Hm…," she pondered, tilting her head to the side to think. Before he could protest, she pulled out of his arms and moved to her makeup bag which was resting on the counter. Taking something out, she turned around to show him what she was holding. It was her packet of birth control. Holding it over the garbage, her intentions obvious, she waited for him to respond.

"I love you," he stated without any hesitation. His voice oozed sincerity, and, as he wrapped his arms around her once again, taking her lips in an endless, decadent, commitment filled kiss, he heard the sound of the little pink case hitting the bottom of the metal trashcan. With that, he picked her up, grinning in satisfaction as he felt her legs encircle his waist and heard a deep, husky moan escape from her otherwise occupied lips. They moved together as one to the bed, Ryan laying her down in the center and stepping back to gaze at her for a moment before joining her. She, Marissa Cooper Atwood, was _his_ wife, the future mother to _his_ children, _his_ to seduce for the rest of _his _life. Blanketing her body with his own, the last thing he heard before he fell into a deep, intense abyss of pleasure were the four most important words anyone had ever uttered to him in his life.

"I love you, too." And they had come from _her_ lips.


End file.
